


Even If It Wasn't Really Santa Claus

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-23
Updated: 2002-11-23
Packaged: 2019-05-15 05:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: A slightly off-kilter response to the Christmas challenge on the Leo/Margaret list. . . beware that the other characters are basically in there for comic relief.





	1. Even If It Wasn't Really Santa Claus

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Even If It Wasn't Really Santa Claus**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** Leo/Margaret  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. Don't sue me, all you'll get are debts and a few stale cheese curls.  
**Summary:** A slightly off-kilter response to the Christmas challenge on the Leo/Margaret list... beware that the other characters are basically in there for comic relief. They aren't really serious, is what I mean. That is to say, they border on goofy. Oh, you'll figure it out soon enough...  
**Series:** 1st in the Unrequited Series  


"It's not gonna work." 

"It's gonna work." 

"It is *not*." 

"Is too! Stop being such a gloomy Gus!" 

Josh Lyman stopped what he was doing and stared at Sam Seaborn, slightly confused. "A *what*?" 

"You know--a gloomy Gus. A pessimist." 

"You couldn't have just said, you know, pessimist." 

"But it's so passe, Josh." 

"It's not gonna work." 

"Quiet, you. It's gonna work." Sam stepped back from their work and regarded it. "It's not gonna work, is it?" 

"Not a snowball's chance in hell." Josh joined him in regarding their work. With a shrug, he added, "It might work. Poke it, let's see." 

Sam shot him a slightly sharp glare. "Why should *I* poke it? It was your idea. Besides, why would we wanna poke it?" 

"I dunno," Josh shrugged. "I always see it on the shows. Now go on and poke it." 

"*You* poke it." 

Rolling his eyes, Josh picked up a toothpick and poked the souffle. It deflated sadly. "Well, hell. That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" 

"Um, Josh?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Why'd we make a souffle instead of a cake?" 

"'Cuz I didn't have the ingredients for a cake." 

"Oh. Okay." Sam cocked his head to the side, thoughtful. "So, why couldn't we just *buy* a cake?" 

Josh regarded him with a new-found respect. "That's a good idea. We should do that."  
\--------------- 

"Hey, Toby." 

Toby Ziegler glanced behind him to find out who was matching his fast stride. "Josh." 

"We got the cake." 

Toby shot him an annoyed glance. "Gee, you wanna get CJ to make a statement to the press now?" 

"I'm just saying, we got it." 

"Whoop-dee-doo. You deserve a cookie. Look, I've got work to do--you know, like running the country." 

"You gotta make sure he doesn't find out." 

At this, Toby stopped suddenly. With a look of disbelief and utter annoyance on his face, he said, "Why me?" 

"'Cuz I got the stamp thing." 

"I delegated." 

"Well, now *I'm* delegating. To you." 

With a scoff, Toby turned to walk away. "You can't do that. I'm higher up on the food chain than you. And he's not gonna know, anyway." 

"What's this about Toby, now?" asked CJ Cregg as she walked up to Josh. 

"He says he's higher up on the food chain than me," he answered, walking with her. 

"So he's gonna eat you, then?" 

"God I hope not," he said before peeling off into a nearby hallway. 

"Hey CJ..." 

"Hey, Sam. Toby's gonna eat Josh," she said, never stopping for a single moment. 

"Ewww. We have a cake." 

"So you're saying Toby can eat the cake." 

"No, I mean we have a cake for the thing. Aren't you proud of us?" 

"Did you bake the cake yourself?" 

"No..." 

"Then I don't care." 

"But--we have a cake!" 

"Then give it to Toby so he doesn't eat Josh." And with that, she exited to her office.  
\--------------- 

"Margaret-" Leo turned slightly, only to see his assisstant already by his elbow. "Jesus, how do you--never mind." Handing her the papers that she needed, he stated, "These need to get to Senator Blumfeld by three today." 

"Okay." She turned to go back to her desk, papers in hand. 

"Oh, and Margaret?" 

She turned around and looked at her boss, expectantly. He was still paying close attention to the papers on his desk. 

"What do you want for Christmas?" 

//Well, that was forward// she thought wryly. "Uh, nothing, sir." 

McGarry looked up at her and took off his glasses. "Really." 

Margaret was drawing a complete blank. No, no, that was not exactly true. There was *one* thought racing around in her head, but she'd be damned before she let it get out. 

Well, it tried to get out anyway. "I--nothing, sir." 

"What is it," he asked, sounding much like a father ordering his child to tell him what she'd done wrong. 

"I, well... I never, uhh..." 

"Spit it out, Margaret." 

"I never met Santa Claus when I was a kid." //There. You said it. Don't you feel like a complete moron.// 

Leo stared at her for a moment, his craggy features unreadable. "That's *it*? Damn, Margaret, I thought it was gonna be something big." 

Margaret looked at him in utter shock. "Sir, I-" 

"We're going during lunch. I think the Brookings Institution's got a Santa this year." He went back to work, not noticing the bizarre look he was getting from his assisstant. She left the room, and someone knocked on his door. "Come in," he said, never looking up from his work. 

"Is Margaret here?" 

"Morning to you too, Sam," Leo answered, waving one hand in the vague direction that Margaret had gone off in. 

Sam wandered after Margaret, catching up with her at the copier. "Cake," he said, triumphantly. 

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Korn?" 

"Huh?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we were going for rock bands named after foods." And then she went back to work. 

Sam stood there with that helpless, lost look on his face for a moment. Then: "I mean, we have the cake. For the thing." 

"Oh. That's nice." She worked on. 

"You seem preoccupied." Sam turned, about to leave. 

"He's taking me to see Santa Claus." 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Sam turned back around to face Margaret. "He's doing what?" 

"I never saw Santa when I was a kid-" 

"That's probably 'cuz he's not real..." 

"You know what I mean. At shopping malls, and things." 

He looked at her, curiosity peaked. "You never saw Santa?" 

"No." 

"Never sat on his lap..." 

"Uh-uh." 

"Got your picture taken..." 

"Nope. He's taking me today." 

Sam was about to say something when Leo walked in the room. 

"Sam," the chief of staff said. 

"Oval office?" 

"Yeah." 

The president was waiting for them in the office when they got there. "Leo," he started, "you busy today?" 

"The usual, Mr. President," came the answer. 

"This afternoon, we've got a staff meeting. Could take a while, so make sure you're cleared after four thirty. Oh, you free for lunch?" 

"Not today, sir." 

President Jed Bartlet regarded his longtime friend with mild surprise. He was always free for lunch... "Oh. Okay. You can go." Leo left, and Bartlet turned his attention to Seaborn. "You--I need a speech. Just a little thing, a holiday thing. That's all, Sam." 

"Yes, sir." He turned to leave, when he heard Bartlet mutter something. "Sir?" 

"Hmm? Oh, I was just thinking... Leo-" 

"He's taking Margaret to see Santa Claus." 

The president looked at Sam as if his head had suddenly sprouted tomatoes. "Our Margaret?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"His assisstant." 

"She never got to see him when she was a kid, sir." 

"Ohh," he said with more understanding. "Sam?" 

"Sir?" 

"Cake?" 

"Yes, sir." He beamed proudly. The president rolled his eyes. 

\--------------- 

It almost never snowed in DC. 

There was always a little ice, some slush in the potholes. The occasional frost on the fire hydrants and parking meters. 

But almost never snow. 

However, it was *always* cold. And both Margaret and Leo pulled their coats ever closer to keep away the cold as they walked briskly through Dupont Circle on the way to the Brookings Institution. 

"Sir?" 

"Call me Leo, Margaret. It's lunch time. What." 

"It's lunch time, si--Leo." 

Leo stopped walking and turned to look at his assisstant. "Hungry?" 

"Um, seeing as how I haven't eaten since six thirty this morning, and it's now about twelve thirty, well..." 

"C'mon, then." A slight detour, and a few moments later, they were warm inside a DC pizzeria. 

"I love pizza," Margaret sighed upon entering the restaurant. 

"Mmm," Leo agreed. They went up to the counter and ordered a couple of slices of what the clerk called New York pizza. 

When they went to sit down, Margaret commented that she hadn't had a good slice of New York pizza for the longest time. 

"Well, sorry to dissappoint you," Leo said, taking a bite of his slice. 

"What do you mean?" 

"This isn't New York pizza." 

Margaret eyed her slice suspiciously. "Then what is it?" 

"This is DC pizza trying valiantly to be New York pizza." 

"Oh. I see. No, I don't. What, exactly, is a New York pizza then?" 

"You mean, as opposed to other pizzas?" 

"Yes." 

"Let me tell you what New York pizza is. You take a slice. You hold it in your hand, like so." He showed her by grasping the outer edge of the crust with the tips of his fingers. "You bend it in half, lengthwise, like this. Now, when you get a veritable river of grease running down to your elbow, *that* is when you know it's New York pizza. And, as you can see, this particular slice produces no grease whatsoever." 

"Ohhhh... so, this is just DC pizza-" 

"-Trying valiantly to be New York pizza. Exactly." 

She looked at her slice in amazement. "I never knew that." 

"Well, now you do. So let's eat the not-New York pizza, and put it out of it's misery." 

Pizza was good. Brisk walk to the Brookings Institution was good. Seeing a small line in front of the Brookings Santa Playland was not so good. But they waited, anyway. Finally, they got to the front of the line, and Leo noticed something weird about the Santa that was sitting there in front of him. Maybe it was that glimmer Santa's eyes, or the way he sat in that godawful chair. 

Or maybe it was just Leo's imagination that Santa seemed to be staring knives through the White House Chief of Staff. 

But, Leo made sure that Margaret got her picture. Of course, she wasn't sitting on Santa's lap; that would have made for a very bizarre photo op. But Leo could see the happiness she was trying to hide, dancing in her eyes. He smiled at her, content that his one good deed for the day had been finished. He paid the photographer--seven dollars for a three by five photo!?--and spared the Angry Santa one last glance. 

Angry Santa was motioning for Leo to talk to him behind the display. This did not go unnoticed by Margaret. 

"What's he doing," she half-whispered to her boss. 

"I dunno," he answered truthfully. "But I get the feeling that Santa Claus wants to kick my ass for some reason." He shrugged and they both followed Angry Santa behind the display. 

Once they were out of sight, Angry Santa took off his hat and ripped off his fake facial hair. Leo did a double take and Margaret just stared like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"Lionel Tribbey?" McGarry shook his head, disbelieving. "What the hell-?!" 

"*What* are you *doing* here?" Tribbey/Santa hissed in his usual neurotic tone. 

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Leo replied dryly. 

"You mean I just got my picture taken with the White House Counsel?" Margaret asked, dejectedly. 

"Leo, I swear to *god*, if you tell anyone about this-" 

"Why are you here, Lionel?" 

"Leo, it wasn't Santa, it was the White House Counsel..." 

"I lost a bet with the director of publications here." 

"You lost a bet with Bob Faherty? That man would bet that the sun doesn't come up every day, and you lost a bet to him." 

"But I didn't think that lawyers could *be* Santa..." 

"I'll get you some ice cream, Margaret. Lionel, how on earth did you lose a bet to *Bob Faherty*?" 

"Well, actually, it was his assisstant. She's--ooh! Cricket bat, Leo, cricket bat!" 

"Ri-hite..." Leo looked at his watch. "Uh, we have to go. Have fun Santa." 

Tribbey snarled at them, to which Margaret had this to say: 

"I'm getting ice cream." She looked at him with a smugly triumphant look on her face before following her boss. 

\--------------- 

A red-haired fury stormed into the Oval Office. "It's four twenty-five. Where on earth is he?" 

"Nice to see you too, Mal," the president said. He smiled as the daughter of his chief of staff blushed slightly. "Probably on the phone," he answered. "Don't worry, even if he is a little late, it's not a big deal." He smiled and surveyed the room. Toby looked bored, Zoey and Charlie were talking to Mallory, CJ, Ainsley and Donna were trying to distance themselves from Josh and Sam, who were proudly displaying their baked-goods conquest to the First Lady. She looked strained. //Far be it from me to not help a damsel in distress// Bartlet thought. So he swooped down on the three and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "You know, and interesting thing about cakes..." He watched with sadistic glee as Josh and Sam's faces fell. 

"What the hell is going on here? I'm late by two minutes for a meeting, and it's degraded into utter chaos." 

All the faces in the room turned to look at the new arrival. Leo McGarry stood in the doorway, eyeing the room's activities suspiciously. Margaret stood behind him with a pitiful I-tried-to-warn-you-but-nobody-was-watching look on her face. 

Bartlet glanced at everyone who had been in the room before Leo had arrived. "Surprise," they all yelled in unison, albeit slightly on the weak side. 

"Right." Suddenly, Leo looked confused. "Wait a minute, Margaret-" 

"Happy birthday, sir." 

Everyone in the room looked at the chief of staff funny. 

"Leo," Sam said. "You forgot your own birthday?" 

For once, Leo McGarry had nothing to say. 

But Margaret did. 

"Lionel Tribbey is Santa Claus."  
\--------------- 

"Lionel Tribbey's gonna kill me now, Margaret." 

It was almost ten thirty that night, and the gathering was long over with. 

"I'll just tell him some poor disillusioned soul spilled it," the red haired secretary replied. 

Leo looked at her with a sarcastic expression on his face before laughing and shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that." 

"If you say so. Anything else for me to do?" 

Leo shook his head. "You can go, if you want to, Margaret." 

She smiled and turned to leave. She had almost made it to her car when she realized that she'd left some papers in her office, so she headed back. She walked into her office, not realizing that the adjoining door to Leo's office was still open until she heard the soft sounds of sleep coming from that direction. Poking her head into her boss' office, she saw that he was head down on his desk, asleep. 

//Leo McGarry, you are *not* getting a crick in your neck on my watch// she thought vehemently. She moved to wake him up. He mumbled and shifted a little under her touch, but nothing more. She shook him a little, but he still did not wake. Not knowing what else to do, she leaned in close to him, her mouth right by his ear. 

"Angry Santa's gonna getcha," she whispered ominously. 

"Santa, no-" He startled awake, with a semi-frazzled look on his face before he realized where he was. Looking up at Margaret, he scowled. "You're evil, you know that?" 

"You don't have anything else to do, either, do you." 

"Of course I do," he answered indignantly. "I have-" Looking down at his desk, he searched for the words to describe his work. "-stuff," he finished lamely. 

"You should go home then, too," she stated. 

"Hey, *I'm* the boss, here." 

"You told me I was off for the night, remember?" 

"You're evil." 

"Go home." 

Leo glanced up at her, annoyance starting to build on his face. "Since when have you been my mother, anyway?" 

"I'm not your mother. It's Wednesday, if you sleep on your desk the way you were, you're gonna get a crick in your neck and then you're gonna be all mopey tomorrow." 

He looked at her indignantly. "I do *not* mope! And if you're so worried about me getting a crick in my neck, I'll sleep on the couch. When did you start being so unreserved?" 

Margaret looked down sheepishly, just now realizing how forceful she was being. "Sorry," she said softly. 

"Margaret." His voice was softer than usual, it's grainy quality gone along with the usual brashness. 

She looked up again to see compassion on Leo's face. "Hmm?" 

"You're a good girl." He wondered briefly if she could see how he was smiling at how her face had just lit up. "Now go home," he added, his voice returning to normal, "or I'll make sure Tribbey knows it was you who spilled it." 

Margaret scurried out of her boss' office, fearing greatly and justly the wrath of Angry Santa. 

-end- 


	2. Unrequited

**Unrequited**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** Leo/Margaret  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. Don't sue me, all you'll get are debts and a few stale cheese curls.  
**Summary:** 2nd in the Unrequited Series  


Part 1 

Everything had to be exactly as he had planned it. Everything had to be exactly as he designed. No way in hell it could be any different. Not with her, anyway. 

She was only Margaret. Quirky, quiet, the-good-secretary Margaret. But she could be so much more to him, if only he'd break out of his shell and look around a bit. 

He appreciated her, of course, but only as a good human being and a good worker. There were so many times that she'd just wanted to go over to him and hold him, take some of the pain away. Because she knew he was still in pain now, weeks after the divorce. He had been in pain for years prior to this. And every day, she had just wanted the opportunity to walk up to him and say, "It's okay." 

But this was a strictly working relationship. Just come to the office, do the work, and leave. That was all. Absently, she wondered if her boss ever thought of her as anything other than his assisstant. Probably not. 

Because she was only Margaret. Quirky, quiet, the-good-secretary Margaret. 

Part 2 

He watched as his assisstant walked into her office. No, not walked; floated. Yes. Floated. Definitely floated. 

He couldn't let her know the way he looked at her. She'd probably slap a sexual harrassment lawsuit on him and quit. And then where would he be? Leo McGarry, White House Chief of Staff, would be reduced to nothing. Sure, he would still be able to perform his duties, but not nearly as well. Hell, he'd probably die of starvation if it weren't for the fact that she reminded him to eat. 

Sometimes, he'd catch her looking at him with a certain glimmer in her eyes. He couldn't tell what exactly it was, but figured that something was hurting his Margaret. He hated when she had that subtly sad look on her face, like someone had beat her dog or something. Many were the times that he'd just wanted to gather her up in his arms and sweep her off her feet and make her forget all her worldly cares. But she would hate him for even trying a stunt like that. 

He was too old for her, anyway. She could have the pick of the litter; why would she choose the junk yard mongrel? There were so many men out there who he would be competing with if he ever-- 

No. He would never do anything with her. There was no worry about competition, no worry about complications that way. 

He had work to do. He was the White House Chief of Staff, after all. 

Part 3 

"Margaret," he called, never looking up from the papers he was looking at. Absently, he wondered why she'd stopped trying to show him how to use the intercom. //Probably doesn't like being around you, you old fool.// 

Margaret came to his side in an instant, wordlessly arriving at his single call. She liked it that way; gave her more time to just look at him, thoroughly absorbed in his work and oblivious to the world around him. 

Leo tried not to look at her when he realized that she was standing so close to him. No need to lose composure, after all. Makes for an uncomfortable work environment. He pushed some papers towards her, never looking up for fear that she might see his eyes and the fear that was apparent in them. "Fax these the Brenneman," he stated, no feeling in his voice. 

She walked away and closed the door behind her, giving him a moment to himself. Sighing heavily, he placed his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on his desk. Ever since the divorce, it had become even harder not to notice Margaret. Before, he had the excuse that he was a married man, and shouldn't be having such thoughts. Now... now. 

Now he had nothing to protect her from him. He had destroyed his relationship with his ex-wife, and if anything were ever to happen between himself and Margaret, he would surely destroy that relationship, as well. He would have to watch from a distance, would have to be content with Margaret being happy with whomever it would be who could make her happy. 

//Besides// he thought, trying to find some humor to cheer himself up. //She's a good six inches taller than you, Leo.// He chuckled dryly at the thought and went back to work. 

Part 4 

As soon as Margaret closed the door behind her, she slumped against the wall. "He's your boss, for chrissake," she muttered to herself, chiding herself for the thoughts she was having. Nothing bad, of course; it was just that when she saw him all tensed up like that, it was all she could do to keep from giving him a shoulder rub. //Keep your hands off him, the last thing he needs is some dorky kid like you fawning over him like this.// 

It was so much easier when he had been married. Then, she was just his buffer from the world, a helping hand, someone who was there to carry the load when he wasn't able to. She was like a sister to him when he wasn't able to be with his real family. And she could hide behind the excuse that he was a married man. Like the President, or someone. Now... now. 

Now, there were no more excuses. No reasons against anything. And that was making it hard as hell to resist things. When he looked at her a certain way, in a certain light, she was almost certain she could see all the things in his eyes and expression that she wanted to see. But it couldn't be. Just illusions, shadows dancing in a teasing waltz. 

To reinforce her theory, Margaret opened the connecting door between their offices and peered at him. He was hard at work, as usual. Didn't even notice that she was looking at him. 

She closed the door behind her and wandered off to make those faxes. //Anyway// she thought, trying to rationalize things with humor, //he's way shorter than you.// This brought a laugh to her lips and she walked to the fax machine with just a little more confidence. 

Part 5 

Leo put down his recently emptied coffee cup. He then proceeded to watch in amazement as it was instantly refilled. He looked up as Margaret walked away with the coffee pot. 

"You didn't have to do that," he huffed, though gratitude shone in his eyes. 

"I know," she answered, leaving to return the pot. Upon returning, she stated, "You didn't have to take me to see Lionel Tribbey dressed up as Santa." 

"You didn't have to remember my birthday," Leo retorted, a playful smile on his lips. The smile grew when he saw Margaret pause at her door, a slight blush on her cheeks. 

"That was everyone, Mr. McGarry," she replied softly, a bashful smile on her face, before exiting into her own office. 

After she left, he looked down at the plain white envelope on his desk. Inside were two tickets to the New Year's bash on the Mall. He knew Mallory wasn't going this year, due to the fact that she'd found some new guy, and Leo had just about insisted that she spend time with the fellow. The boy seemed nice, after all. 

So that left him with an extra ticket. The President was forcing him to go, so he couldn't give the pair to any of his non-political friends who were lacking tickets. He either had to find someone to go with him, or just go alone. He did not relish the idea of going alone. 

However, the only person he would ever possibly want to go with was sitting next door to him. //Oh, just get up and ask her, you moron. It's just some fireworks and crappy musicians, for god's sake.// 

So he did. And she said yes. 

Part 6 

Leo McGarry stared from where he was sitting at the wailing singer, boredom etched on his face. Beside him, Margaret sat watching, seeming to be equally as bored. 

"Sorry," Leo mumbled to her over the noise of the crowd. 

"For what?" she mumbled back. 

Leo nodded to the still-wailing banshee of a singer. "You're bored, aren't you?" 

Margaret looked at him, slightly confused. "I'm not bored," she stated, wondering what had brought him to that conclusion. 

He regarded his assisstant curiously. If not boredom... "You cold?" 

She smiled shyly and looked away. "Kinda, yeah." 

"C'mere." Before either of them realized what was going on, Leo had pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to warm her up a bit. 

She was tense for a moment, but relaxed quickly in his embrace. "Thanks," she laughed. 

Leo merely grunted in return. He was having too many problems trying to ignore the scent of her hair--//What is that? Strawberry?//--to say anything coherent. 

Lost in the moment, Margaret snuggled a little closer, a content drowsiness spreading through her despite the noise around her. Even through the thick layers of clothes her boss was wearing, she could hear his heartbeat. God, it was fast. She shifted to look up at him--an absolute first--and saw how his jaw was clenched. "You okay?" she asked, concerned. 

He looked down a little quickly. //I've had dreams about this. I'm frightened you'd hate me for what I think of you. I'm about to have a freakin' heart attack.// "Yeah, I'm fine. You?" 

She smiled sweetly. //I've had dreams about this. I'm frightened you'd hate me for what I think of you. And if you have a freakin' heart attack on me, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass for giving me that kind of scare.// "Oh, I'm fine. Thank you." 

"Okay." 

"Okay." 

Part 7 

Josh Lyman strolled merrily into his office on the chilly second day of the new year. He nodded amicably at Donna and was about to walk right past her until he saw the look she was giving him. 

He quickly checked his shirt, tie and pants to make sure he hadn't spilled anything on them. Not finding any offending stains, he looked at her in confusion. "What?" 

"You were at the thing last night, right?" 

"By 'thing', you mean the New Year's celebration down on the Mall, I assume." 

Donna nodded. "Well?" 

By this time, Josh was completely confused. "Well, what?" he countered, annoyed. 

"You mean to tell me you didn't see?" 

"Didn't see what?" asked a new voice. Enter Sam Seaborn, who slyly plucked the powdered donut off Donna's desk. At her scathing glare, he slyly put it back. "Didn't see what?" he repeated. 

"Leo and Margaret." As an afterthought, she added with a slight pout, "Margaret wouldn't tell me anything." 

Josh and Sam looked at each other for a moment, lost. Sam figured out what Donna had been talking about first, and asked, "When she was cold, you mean?" 

Now it was Donna's turn to be confused. "Cold?" 

"Donna, it *was* about twenty degrees out there," Josh stated. Then he remembered what she had been reffering to. "Oh, that? That was Leo. He was being chivalrous." 

"Chivalry is dead," stated CJ Cregg. "Hey, Donna, you gonna eat that donut?" 

"No, go ahead." 

Sam and Josh stared at CJ as she took Donna's donut. "Chivalry is *not* dead," Josh retorted, finally snapping back to his senses. "In fact, just last night, Leo was doing a fine job displaying it." 

"That's 'cuz it's Leo," CJ stated between bites. "Wait a minute. Last night?" 

The three nodded. 

"Oh, didn't those two look so cute together?" 

Sam and Josh were looking at her in complete disgust, so she turned her gaze to Donna, who seemed to share her sentiment. 

Josh rolled his eyes as the two women discussed just how 'cute' it was. "I *so* do not need to hear this," he muttered to Sam. 

"I know," Seaborn replied. "I mean, isn't it bad enough that the whole building thinks you have a thing for Donna?" He rolled his eyes and scoffed, completely missing the deer-in-headlights look he was currently getting from the Deputy Chief of Staff. 

Toby Ziegler chose this time to enter the conversation. "Excuse me," he stated, none too politely. 

All voices were silenced. 

"No, it wasn't just chivalry, yes, the whole building knows, Josh, and, oh yeah, we have jobs, don't we?" 

The four looked at Toby like petulant children before sauntering off to their respective offices. He turned on his heel and left. 

"Man's got ears like a hawk," Josh muttered from the confines of his office. He looked up suddenly, half expecting Toby to come back with an "I heard that" or something. When nothing happened, he chuckled and set himself down to do some work. 

"You thought I didn't hear, did you?" 

Part 8 

Words started blurring together. Leo rubbed his eyes wearily, pushing himself to read onwards. Stifling a yawn, he picked up the report and shifted in his chair to try and stay awake. 

It wasn't working. He got up and started walking around, tried to get the blood flowing. He rolled his shoulders back, working out the kinks in his back. The words were still blurring together. He did not dare look at his watch, fearing that the late (early?) hour would make him even more tired. 

He finally gave up, and collapsed onto his couch. He would close his eyes, but only for a moment. Just a moment, then he would get up, and continue working. Absently, he wondered if Margaret were still around. //Not likely// he concluded drowsily. //She's probably at home, asleep, in a warm comfortable bed...// 

With a yawn, he opened his eyes and blinked to clear the drowsiness. He was startled to find Margaret standing in the connecting doorway. She was unassuming as usual, but there was something about her eyes. A shine, or something. 

"Leo," she said softly. 

McGarry looked at her, perplexed. She never called him Leo unless he asked her to. And what the hell was she doing at the office at this hour anyway? He got up and walked over to her. "You should go home," he stated, slight confusion on his face. //But, god, her eyes... // 

"So should you," Margaret replied quietly. A lock of red hair fell in her face by her eyes. 

Leo reached up to brush her hair away from her eyes //love her eyes// and let his fingers linger a little bit //her skin's so warm// tracing his the tips of his fingers across her cheekbone //and soft, god so soft//. 

He could feel her moving closer to him, achingly slow, feel the soft wool of her sweater brushing softly against his shirt, warm breath by his lips- 

-And he awoke with a start. He looked around, confused, panting a little. The office was still as dark as before, so he probably wasn't asleep for too long. He got up slowly, and walked over to the connecting door. It was shut. Slowly, he opened it, peeking into Margaret's office. She wasn't anywhere around. 

He sighed shakily and rested his head against the door. "Thank god," he muttered. 

"Thank god for what?" 

Leo's head shot up, staring in surprise as Margaret walked in from the hallway. "I-I thought you'd gone home," he answered after a time. 

"Why would I have gone home?" she asked, confused. 

"Well, for starters, it's-" he looked down at his watch "-three fourteen in the morning." 

"You're still here," Margaret replied. "You need sleep just as much as I do. If not more so." 

Leo swallowed nervously. "Just took a nap. You should go home," he stated quietly. 

Margaret regarded her boss quietly. He seemed so nervous //he doesn't want me to be here, why?// and tired. "It's too early to go home now." 

Leo looked at her, a tense look on his face. Finally, he nodded, agreeing, and went back to his desk. The words on the report were still as blurry as before, but now it wasn't just his eyes that were rebelling against his drive to work. He could not seem to get his mind off the fact that Margaret was still in the other room, right next door to him, a mere ten or so feet from where he sat. "Goddammit." 

"So first you thank him and then you ask him to damn something. What's next?" 

Leo looked up at his secretary, once again startled. "Why do you do that?" 

"Do what?" 

"Sneak up on me like that. It freaks me out, you know." 

"I'm sorry. Can't help it." 

"Take the day off, Margaret. Go home." 

"Why don't you want me here?" 

The chief of staff's expression softend. "That's not it, Margaret," he replied quietly. "It's just--" //I can't think straight with you around right now// "--you need to get some sleep, and you won't be getting any here." 

With a shrug and a small smile, Margaret stated, "I'll make up for it on the weekend." The smile grew wider when Leo started laughing quietly. //That's better, Leo// she thought. //Laugh off that stress.//  
  

She turned to go back to her office when she heard Leo call for her. "Yes?" 

"You go home, now. Take the day off." 

"I'll be fine, Leo, I-" She clamped her mouth shut quickly. 

//She never calls me Leo, unless I tells her to// Leo thought as he looked at her. //Must have misheard, but...// He was not sure whether to ask if he had indeed misheard or not. Before he could decide, she quickly apologized and turned to escape into her office. 

Leo sighed, sure he had not misheard, and walked right after her. She was at her desk, preparing some papers to be filed, pretending to look busy. She did not look up as Leo neared her desk. 

"Hey." Margaret pretended to ignore him. "Hey," he repeated a little more insistently as he placed his hand over hers. She nearly jumped out of her skin at his touch. She glanced at him, taking in his stance: relaxed, as usual, with one hand stuffed in a pocket while the other was resting lightly on hers. 

Leo looked up at his assisstant, feeling anything but relaxed. It took all his willpower to keep from gripping her hand tightly and pulling her towards him in some sort of primitive, possessive embrace. "You okay?" he asked after finally pulling himself together. 

"Yeah," she answered, wondering how she found her voice so quickly. "I'm okay." 

He squeezed her hand a little //no more, McGarry, there are limits// and turned to go back to his office. He paused a few steps from the door, contemplating whether he should say something else. Turning to face Margaret he started, "You know, I really don't mind." 

Margaret stared at him blankly. //He doesn't mind when I call him Leo? Since when?// "Mind what?" 

// I don't mind your silly jokes. I don't mind being close to you. I don't mind anything about you. I never could.// "You calling me Leo. It's no big deal." 

"Oh." She smiled nervously and looked down at her desk for a moment before looking back up at him. "Okay." A lock of red hair fell in her face by her eyes. She absently brushed it back //why is he looking at me like that// and watched as he turned and walked back into his office. 

Part 9 

Leo watched curiously as Margaret bustled in and out of her office. She had left to get staples and had come back with a sheaf of papers. Then she had left for manila folders and returned with the staples. Finally, after leaving for rubber bands, she had come back with the folders. It would be a gross understatement to say that there was something on her mind. 

It finally came to a head when she walked into his office only to stop suddenly and walk back into her own. He got up and followed her. She didn't notice as he shadowed her for almost three minutes, following her to the filing cabinet, then the desk, then back to the cabinet, and finally back to his office. 

Margaret looked at Leo's empty chair in confusion. Looking around, she was startled to find him standing right behind her with a determined look on his face. "Wh--Leo?" 

"What's the matter, Margaret?" 

"Nothing," she answered too quickly. 

He scoffed and crossed his arms. "The hell there isn't. Tell me." 

She stared at him, a hardness in her eyes, jaw clenched. "It's personal." She brushed past him, intent on getting back to work. 

//You're not getting away that easily.// "It's affecting your work. It's not personal anymore." 

"I'm sorry, Leo. But it's personal." //Don't push me any further, please.// 

Leo leaned against the door frame. "Need some time off?" The question was not a threat. Just a compassionate inquiry. 

//God, no, I can't set foot in that apartment anymore// "No, I'll be okay." She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. 

"Margaret." //You can't lie to me, you should know that.// "Let me help." 

Her smile faded a little, twisting into a frown for a very brief moment before dissappearing completely. "I don't think you can, Leo." 

"Why not?" 

//Because you can't erase the fact that someone forced themselves into my apartment and looked through all my stuff and ripped photos out of their frames so that the frames could be sold elswhere and rifled through my chest of drawers looking for money or jewelry or whatever and when he didn't find any helped himself to the contents of my refrigerator and then relieved himself in *my bathroom* without flushing and then when he tried to escape was seen by my next door neighbor, this wonderfully creative young man named Jerome, and consequently beat said neighbor into a coma.// "Because you just can't." 

"I can certainly try," Leo stated. "And, before you ask, yes I *am* perfectly willing to stand here for the rest of the day waiting for you to tell me what's up." //Because I don't care about the rest of the country right now. Let Jed worry about all that. I just want to know what's eating at you, because you are all that matters. I want to destroy whatever has made you so sad, my Margaret.// 

She looked at him, contemplating whether or not he was bluffing. Finally, she collapsed into her chair, and stated, "There was a robbery at my apartment." 

"Go on." 

"Uh, the guy, he took some stuff, and... my neighbor, he got hurt when the guy tried to leave, and the police are trying to find him, but my neighbor's at the hospital because-" She looked at Leo, unable to complete the sentence for fear that her voice would give out. 

Leo regarded her with guarded eyes. There was more to it, but he didn't want to push. "You're neighbor, who is he?" 

"J-Jerome Brisco." 

"Where's he at right now?" 

"Um, DC General..." 

"He's getting moved to GW." He put up his hand to stop her objections. "On my tab. You're not getting around this one, Margaret." He was warmed by the glimmer of a thankful smile that appeared briefly on her lips. "You got a place to stay?" 

"N-the apartment, but I-" //feel claustrophobic there// "-don't feel comfortable staying there. I'm probably gonna get a hotel room somewhere," she added. 

"Nonsense-" //ohmygod my tongue had gotten a mind of it's own the little bastard// "-you can stay with me for a while." 

"Oh-" //mygod my what am I saying// "-okay." 

Leo walked up to her, sitting on the edge of her desk and looking down at her. "You okay?" 

"No," she answered truthfully. "But I will be." 

Part 10 

Margaret woke up in an unfamiliar bed. It was still dark outside, and oddly quiet for DC. She reached for her alarm clock //no, that's still in the apartment// looked around for some sort of clock. Red numbers glared at her from her right--two forty-seven in the morning. With a groan, she rolled onto her side and tried to go back to sleep. 

It wouldn't work. She got up and padded to the kitchen //keep it quiet girl, Leo's probably not a freakish insomniac like you are// and got a cup of water. Walking back towards the bedroom, she noticed that the television was on. The volume was muted, however, and Leo looked almost too relaxed sitting up on the couch. Head resting on the hand that was propped up on the sofa's arm, Leo was asleep. 

She turned off the television with a click of the remote. Leo woke up with a start. 

"I was watching that," he mumbled sleepily. She looked at him oddly and turned it back on. A little more awake, he peered at her with groggy eyes. "What're you doin' up, anyway?" 

"I--it's silly," she stuttered out. 

Leo motioned for her to sit down next to him. "You had a dream." She nodded. "A nightmare, maybe?" She nodded again. He pulled her to him //is it a good thing or a bad thing she's not resisting// and murmured to her, "It's called post-traumatic stress, and it's perfectly normal. Some strange guy was going through your stuff, looking through your life, and hurts someone close to you. I'd be worried if you *weren't* affected by that." He absently noticed that she had curled her legs up under her while he was talking. Shifting a bit to make her a little more comfortable, he added, "Trust me on this part, you're gonna get over it. You're strong." //And smart. And warm. And beautiful. I'll make sure you get over it. I promise.// 

Margaret shifted a little and looked up at him. "You think so?" 

"I know so, toots." He smiled confidently at her. 

She looked up at that smile with drowsy eyes. "You've got such a pretty smile," Margaret murmured sleepily. 

Leo kept the smile, but looked at her quizzically. "You really need sleep, you know that?" 

"I mean it," Margaret whined playfully. "It is." 

"Well, your's ain't so bad, either," he replied, still slightly taken aback by her perfectly random comment. 

"Really?" she asked, moving a bit to rest her head on his shoulder //why is this so comfortable//. 

"Really," he replied, sliding his hands up a little to support her more //she feels so right//. 

By the eveness of Margaret's breathing, Leo could tell she was falling asleep. He ever so lightly rested his head down on hers, allowing himself the small luxury of feeling the softness of her hair upon his cheek. He could feel his own eyes closing as he brushed his lips gently over Margaret's temple. //This is real McGarry, stop that.// 

Margaret turned her head to face Leo. "Don't stop," she whispered, nuzzling the stubble on his chin. 

His eyes opened slowly. "What did you just say," he murmured slowly, disbelieving. 

She reached up and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips onto his softly, softly. "I said don't stop," she sighed, tracing his jawline with her mouth. "I said don't stop." 

Part 11 

"Are you sure?" 

He had picked her up, taken her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed silently, never once breaking eye contact with her. And now he sat down beside her, stroking her face gently while asking if she were sure. 

"God, yes," Margaret whispered. She slid her hand up his arm, letting it come to rest on his shoulder before gently tugging at the fabric of his shirt, bringing him down to meet his lips with her own. //God, he's shaking so hard.// "Leo," she finally breathed. "You're trembling..." 

Leo swallowed hard and propped himself up a little on his forearms. "I, uh... Heh, call me old-fashioned, but I've never--other than Jenny, I mean... " He felt Margaret's hand on his lips, silencing him. 

"Don't be nervous. Don't worry about anything." She pulled him close once more, this time slipping her hands under his shirt. //His back. . . there's something rough on it...// "What's this?" she asked, tracing the roughness with her fingers. 

"From the war." //I'd almost forgotten about those... dammit.// 

"Can I see?" 

Leo reluctantly took off his shirt and laid down beside Margaret. Propping herself up on one elbow, she traced the fading lines with a slight sadness in her touch. "Leo..." 

"Don't." He rolled over quickly and grabbed her wrist, gentle but firm. "Don't. That was a long time ago." He stared intently into her eyes. //And she was about five years old, wasn't she?// He dropped her wrist, sat up, grabbed his shirt, and left the room. 

//What the hell-// Margaret stared at him as he stalked out. A moment later, she scrambled out of the bed and stalked right after him. She found him staring out the bay window across the living room, shirt slightly rumpled on him, arms wrapped tightly around his chest, silhouetted against the dark blue glow of the city at night. 

"What happened?" she asked sadly. 

"Margaret, there are about a million and one guys who would knock down your door to get a shot at being with you, you know." 

She regared the tense figure by the window. "What on earth... What are you *talking* about? Leo-" 

"You should go back to sleep," he interrupted quietly. "It's about three in the morning, or something. We're gonna have a long day tomorrow." 

"Why you little-" Margaret stared bullets through his back. "What is wrong with you? You think you're too good for me, or something? Is that it?" When he didn't reply, she scoffed and continued. "That *is* it, isn't it. Well, Mr. McGarry, no need to worry now, this quaint little back-asswards New Hampshire girl won't be bothering you any more. I'll just go to work like normal, and we'll forget everything that happened tonight, forever." She turned swiftly on her heel, intent on collapsing onto the bed for the rest of the night. 

Leo turned and followed her quickly. "Margaret-" //I knew I'd screw it up, dammit// "-wait a minute." He caught up with her and grabbed her by her forearm. "Listen to me for a minute, goddammit." She turned to face him, dubiously. "Margaret, there are so many men out there who would be so much better for you. I'm nothing compared to them-" 

"You... are... everything." 

//Did she just say that? Must be the sleep dep...// "Margaret-" 

"Shut up," she muttered as she pulled him towards her and fiercely crushed her lips to his. 

He shut up. 

Part 12 

Margaret squinted as the bright sunlight hit her eyes. The sound of birds //isn't it winter still?// and muted traffic filled her ears as she wandered back from never-never land. She glanced out the window; it was an oh so beautiful day, with perfect blue skies. Beside her, Leo was oh so peaceful, fast asleep with one arm flung carelessly around her. The bed was oh so warm, soft and comfortable. 

And the alarm clock on the nightstand read oh so eight fourteen. On an oh so Wednesday morning. 

She gazed at the clock with a dazed smile for a moment. //I'm supposed to be somewhere, aren't I... oh, yeah, the White House...// 

The smile vanished. //The White House?// "The White House... oh, sh--Leo!" 

The third most powerful man in the world mumbled incoherently into his pillow and snuggled closer to Margaret. 

She threw a panicked glance his way. Then she looked back at the clock. Then him. She shook him almost violently by his shoulders. "Leo! Work! Late!" 

He gazed at her, squinty-eyed. "Wha... time'zit?" Then he glanced at the clock. He was instantly awake. Wide-eyed, slack-jawed, he bolted straight up. 

"Oh, sh-"  
   
  

The End. (I'm evil, aren't I?) 


	3. Gossip

**Gossip**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** Leo/Margaret  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. Don't sue me, all you'll get are debts and a few stale cheese curls.  
**Summary:** 3rd in the Unrequited Series  


{Part 1} 

Toby Ziegler looked up from his work, annoyed at the intrusion. "What... do... you ... want?" 

CJ Cregg stared at him, taken aback by the anger in his voice. "Nice to see you, too, Toby," she muttered sarcastically. "Listen, I need the info on the Beckett inquiry. And Admiral Calavicci's statements." 

He unceremoniously shoved a stack of papers in her direction. "Take 'em. I don't want anything to do with this crap." 

She grabbed them and looked at him with big, innocent eyes. "You mean you don't *like* quantum theories?" 

Toby glared at her in response. 

Rolling her eyes, CJ became all business once more. "I'm gonna go see Leo. Need to ask him anything?" 

"Nope." //Especially since he's not in yet. I wonder, Claudia Jean, what is the look on your face gonna be when you realize he's not there?// 

CJ walked out of her office and stepped quickly to the office of the chief of staff. "Leo," she called, trying to open the door. It was locked. "Odd," she muttered. Turning around, she jumped back in surprise as she came face to face with just the man she was looking for. 

Leo looked more relaxed than usual, but not by too much. Apparently, literally running into CJ was not on his itinerary for the day. "Need something?" he asked, trying to regain his composure. 

"Uhh..." //Yeah, where's Margaret?// "... White House reaction to the Beckett thing." 

"All in the name of scientific inquiry, and all that." //I'm gonna hafta have a talk with Al. He's off his rockers on this one.// "CJ?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Could, uh, could I possibly get into my office?" 

She looked behind her as if she didn't expect to find the door there. "Oh. Of course." She moved quickly, and he went inside. //Tardy number two. You go for three, people are gonna start asking questions. Heck, people already are.// 

Walking back to her office, she saw Josh stepping out of his. "Josh," she greeted. 

"CJ," he nodded back, walking alongside her. "Leo in yet?" 

"Just got in. Sam around?" 

"Yeah. Listen, was he late again?" 

"Yeah, why?" She stopped and looked at him. 

Josh took a few steps more, not realizing that CJ had stopped. Immediately, he turned around, frowning slightly at the smile that was playing on her lips. Abashed, he walked back to her, his face turning a little red at his gaffe. "Well," he began, "Donna said that Margaret hadn't come in yet, either." 

"Well, I didn't see Margaret there. She probably took the day off, or something," she supplied. 

Josh shrugged noncomittaly and they began walking again. "Yeah. She was late last time, too." 

"Josh, she might not be late, she could be at her apartment hacking up large amounts of phlegm." 

Lyman eyed her with a disgusted look on his face. "Thank you for that image, and with that, I leave you." And with that, he left her, turning into Sam's office. 

"And with that, you don't," CJ replied, following him. "Remember how I asked if Sam was in?" 

"Yeah... oh, right." 

Sam looked up from the blank page on his desk. In his hand was a pen that was poised over the top of the page. "'Sup." 

"You taking the medieval route on that one?" CJ asked, motioning at the paper on his desk. 

Sam gazed at the blank sheet forlornly. "Well," he sighed, "staring at the computer screen was doing nothing except giving me dry eyes." 

Josh blinked at him once or twice, then turned to face CJ abruptly. "You don't really believe that, do you?" 

"Actually, staring at computer screens can very well give you dry eyes-" 

"I mean the phlegm thing." 

CJ stared at him meekly. "No, not really." 

Sam had watched the exchange silently and confused. He finally decided to break into it. "What are you two talking about?" He stared at them with those forlorn puppy dog eyes, completely lost. 

Just then, Donna walked in. "There you are," she chirped to Josh. "Senior staff in five," she stated to them. "Oh, and Margaret's in. Don't know when she came, though." 

CJ and Josh exchanged knowing glances before leaving. Sam pouted and got up to follow. 

{Part 2} 

The staff meeting was over quickly, and everyone started to file out of the oval office. The President watched as, one by one, they dissappeared into the hallway outside. He nabbed his chief of staff before he could escape, placing a hand firmly upon the other man's shoulder. 

"You're not getting out of here *that* quick, friend," he muttered, amused. "Mind telling me why you were late?" 

McGarry turned to face his longtime friend with an annoyed look. "I woke up late," he lied, hoping that Bartlet would not see through it. 

Crossing his arms and moving to lean back against his desk, Bartlet stated, "I can read you like a book, Leo. You can't lie to me, you should know that." 

Shoving his hands into his pocket and scowling a bit, Leo turned to face his friend. The scowl dissipated into a small chuckle when he saw the worried look on Jed's face. 

"What's so funny?" the president asked indignantly. 

"You," Leo answered. "I'm perfectly fine, you know." 

Jed looked at him, utterly confused. "Then, why were you..." Just then, the President had a realization. An epiphany, if you will. "Ohh... you were..." He let a small smile grow on his face. 

Leo's expression was a mix of bashful happiness and outright fear. "Look, the thing is, I don't know if, well... I don't want anyone knowing just yet, you see..." 

Bartlet nodded knowingly. "Mum's the word, Leo. Just, one question. Anybody I know?" 

"Yes." 

"Who?" 

"You've already asked your one question." 

The President frowned in thought for a moment. Then: "I could order you, you know." 

Leo looked at him with a cross expression on his face. "You *would* do that, wouldn't you?" 

"Yup. Who is she?" 

"What makes you think it's a she?" 

Jed's eyes widened in pure shock. "Well... uhh, okay... who is *he*?" 

//Don't laugh, dammit, don't laugh...// Scoffing, Leo glared at his longtime friend. "So well you know me. It's not a he, either." 

Not many people are able to confuse Josiah Bartlet. But this time... "Well, forgive me for asking, but what's left?" 

"My left shoe." 

"Your left shoe." 

"Yes." 

"You're mocking me." 

"Yes." 

"You... are an idiot." 

"I got you elected." 

"And I wonder what that says about this country." Jed regarded his longtime friend, and the laughter that danced behind the other man's eyes. "Been a long time since you've been so relaxed, old friend. Whoever it is, you're lucky to have found her." 

"I know," the White House Chief Of Staff replied. 

The President dismissed him with a nod of his head and a smile. 

Not a minute after Leo had left, the Oval Office was graced by the presence of one Abbey Bartlet. Gliding over to her husband, she reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Was that Leo I just saw floating out of here?" 

"Yes... " Jed eyed her suspiciously. "What do you want?" 

Abbey looked at him with a look of mock-indignation. "Must I 'want' something every time I come to visit my loving, wonderful husband?" 

"Yes." He received a slap on the arm for his glib remark. "You wanna know about Leo, don't you." 

"What about Leo?" she questioned as if she had not noticed a thing herself. 

With a sickly-sweet smile, Jed replied, "I can't tell you. I'm sworn to secrecy." 

"Well, I'm your wife," Abbey retorted, somewhat petulantly. "You should tell me." 

Dr. Josiah Bartlet, most powerful man on earth, was also one of the biggest gossips. He just never could resist a juicy bit of news. "He was late again," he stated in a hushed, excited tone. 

Abbey stared at her husband expectantly. "And?" 

"He's got a girl." 

The First Lady was a little stunned. "Jed, I mean... Are you sure? He only just got divorced... " 

"I got it from the source himself. Just don't tell anyone else, okay?" Jed looked at her seriously. "He'd kill me if he knew I'd blabbed." 

"Well, we could always get more Secret Service agents." 

"This is Leo we're talking about. I'd have to go into hiding." 

Abbey gave Jed another small kiss, this time on the lips. "Very true. Oh well, John's not *that* bad of a guy." And she left the office, knowing full well about the pout that Jed was giving her behind her back. 

{Part 3} 

CJ looked up and saw Josh entering the mess hall. Waving him over, she grabbed a table and sat down. Usually, she preffered to eat out, at Lawson's or the California Pizza Oven or something. But today, there was so much coming and going in the Press Office--not only the whole Beckett thing, but those fugitive soldiers of fortune types and the pardons that some general was pushing for them. Munching on some fries, she flipped through the case file. 

Josh placed his tray in front of CJ's and sat down in front of her. "Working on the miltary thing?" he asked nonchalantly, biting into his burger. 

"Mm-hmm." She took another fry. "You know, they escaped their own execution after the fact? How do escape your own execution, after you're executed?" 

Josh shrugged and chewed thoughtfully. "Dunno," he answered through a mouthful of food. "Maybe they had outside help," he added in a questioning tone. 

CJ looked at him incredulously. "Right. Who would be crazy enough to help a bunch of fugitives?" Just then, she spotted Sam walking over to them with a full tray. "Hey, Sam. If you were executed, how would you escape?" 

He looked at her oddly before sitting down next to Josh. "Dunno. Is that the military thing you're on, there?" When she nodded and looked back down at her work, he added brightly, "My uncle chased them for a few years, back in the eighties. Said they always got away 'cuz they had outside help." 

Josh looked at CJ pointedly and smirked. CJ ignored him and looked at Sam instead, somewhat curious. "Did he know who?" 

"He told me a while ago... some crazy guy. A pilot, or something." 

CJ sighed and returned to munching on her fries and working. She looked up just in time to see Donna looking for a seat. "Over here, Donna," she said with a wave. 

Donna sat down with a smile. "You still looking at the military thing?" CJ grunted in response. "They're pretty good guys, you know." 

CJ shot her a look that would make Satan himself shrink in fear. Looking back at her work, she closed the file and pushed it slightly away from her food. "I am just going to focus on this burger and these fries and this salad for a while. No more presidential pardon stuff." 

"If you don't mind my asking," Josh started." 

"I do. But you're gonna ask anyway, aren't you." 

"Yeah. Is this actually in your job description?" 

With a sigh, CJ explained that Toby and Leo wanted her to get vetted on the whole case so that she could take on the press on any questions that may be asked. 

"Well, don't look now, but Leo just came in," Donna stated in a hushed tone. 

Sam glanced at her, perplexed, as CJ and Josh snapped their heads up to look at the chief of staff. "Man's gotta eat, doesn't he?" Seaborn asked, utterly oblivious. 

"Margaret's not with him," Josh sighed, frustrated. Sam finally turned to watch Leo, and all four of them stared in awe as he went up to the front of the line and ordered something. 

"Why would Margaret-" Sam stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh, *that's* what you two were talking about earlier," he realized. He then became silent as he joined them in full realization, watching as Leo grabbed two orders from the serving line. 

After Leo left, they turned back to each other. 

"Two orders," Donna began. 

"Yeah," Josh. "You think-" 

"He could just be being nice," Sam stated. 

"Who could just be being nice?" Toby asked as he walked over to the table carrying a salad and a soda and sat down. "And what kind of English is that from a White House speech writer?" 

"Leo," CJ answered. "He got something for Margaret." 

"Really?" Toby's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "What'd he get her?" 

"I don't know. Couldn't see it from here." 

"From--you mean he got her food." 

"Yeah. What'd you think I meant?" 

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Something, you know, besides a BLT." He took a bite of his roughage. "Like, a thing or something." 

"Oh, he's giving her something, all right," Josh commented before receiving four kicks to the shin. Reaching down to rub his now very sore leg, he muttered, "You all planned that, didn't you." 

They glared at him in response before breaking out into laughter. 

{Part 4} 

Toby paused in front of Leo's door, hand hovering above the handle as he listened to the muffled laughter inside. //They're in there--No. He wouldn't do that. Stop thinking those thoughts.// He knocked on the door, just in case. 

Upon permission to enter, Toby cautiously opened the door and poked his head in. There sat Leo, in his chair, with Margaret a respectable distance behind him. "Uhh, I didn't disturb you, did I?" 

Leo looked at him oddly, a confused smile plastered upon his face. "No," he answered. "Need something?" he asked as Margaret surreptitiously slipped back into her office. 

"Just, you know, dropping off some papers," Toby answered, eying his boss cautiously. "Um, Leo?" 

Leo was already immersed in the report. He didn't look up at Toby when he replied, "Hmm?" 

Ziegler looked at him, an odd, uncomfortable expression on his face, and opened his mouth as if to speak. He apparently thought better of it, because he quickly clamped his lips together and turned to leave. "Nothing," he mumbled semi-pleasantly. 

{Part 5} 

"I swear, I almost walked in on something," Toby stated firmly, jabbing his salad fork in CJ's general direction, as if to emphasize his point. 

Josh leaned over and stage-whispered into the press secretary's ear, "Think he's gonna rip your heart out with a fork, Claudia Jean." 

Toby snapped his head around to face Lyman. He pointed the fork in Lyman's direction sternly, eliciting a flinch from the younger man. Turning his attention back to the table at large, he added, "I shudder to think of what would've happened had I not knocked!" 

Sam eyed the salad fork warily. "Um, Toby? Could you possibly, you know... your fork's scaring me." 

The rest of the table stared at Seaborn for a minute before picking up their forks and pointing them in his direction. He stared at them crossly. 

Putting down her fork, CJ said, "It was probably nothing, Toby. Leo's not like that; it was probably just Margaret telling a joke." 

Ziegler eyed her skeptically. "Ri-hite. CJ, you've heard Margaret's jokes." 

CJ furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. "Point. But I'd rather think it was that than... you know. The *other* possibility." 

Josh poked at the unappetizing slab of meat on his plate for a moment. "You know, that's a disturbing thought." 

Sam looked up from his plate, mid-chew. "Wha' ish?" 

"Leo... you know..." 

"Josh," Toby warned, squeezing the bridge of his nose anxiously. 

"What? I'm just saying it's a weird thought-" 

"Please don't, Josh," CJ pleaded. 

"-Leo in bed with someone." 

Toby rested his head in his hands in a defeated fashion, CJ tossed her napkin down and muttered under her breath, and Sam nearly choked on the green beans he was eating. 

Gagging slightly and taking a drink of water, Sam turned a disgusted eye on his friend. "Josh! You trying to kill me?" 

"What? I'm just spreading the wealth, is all. It's Toby's fault, anyway," Josh huffed. "If he hadn't brought it up, we woulda been talking about the Beckett thing. Or the pardon thing. Or something other than this thing." 

CJ threw a balled up napkin at him. "Yeah, but you didn't need to say it like that. It's bad enough that Toby had the image in his head." 

"I didn't have that image, actually." 

"Whatever. My point is, now all of us have an picture of... of..." 

"-of dad getting some," Sam interjected. 

"Yeah," CJ agreed before casting an peculiar look. "Dad?" Toby and Josh joined her in looking at Sam questioningly. 

Sam fidgeted under their gazes. "You know... like an office dad, or something. Not a real dad, but kinda like one." 

Understanding washed over the table. Suddenly, Toby looked around in confusion. "Josh," he started, "Where's Donna?" 

{Part 6} 

While the senior staff sans Leo was enjoying a dinner at Dupont Circle, Donnatella Moss was busy photocopying things. Things for Josh, regarding a certain assisstant director of the FBI. //Skippy... Skennel... Skinner. Yeah. That guy's been bugging us ever since his agent dissappeared. What a wierdo.// 

She hated photocopying, especially when it was dinner time for the rest of the world. Leaning tiredly against the wall by the copier, she stared off blankly into the distance. A slight movement nearby snapped her out of her thoughts and she looked around, startled. 

Margaret was walking over to the copier with a veritable tower of precariously stacked folders. Stifling a laugh at the sight of the tall red-head with the tall manila stack, Donna simply said, "Looks like you need help." 

From behind the stack, Margaret concurred with that statement. Chuckling slightly, Donna moved to relieve Margaret of part of her load. "Good god, what does Leo want with all of this? Planning on publishing his memoirs here at the office?" 

Margaret laughed at Donna's attempt at sarcasm, a rare sound indeed. "Or somethin'. The machine by his office broke, and we've got a lot of stuff to get together. So instead of trekking down here four or five times, I'm just gonna get it all done with right now." She stood on the other side of the copier, waiting patiently for Donna's copies to be done. 

The Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff glanced at Margaret for a moment. //She's not chatty. She's usually spouting endless amounts of inane trivia. And Leo was late again today. And so was she. Oh, Josh *so* owes me that five-spot.// "So why aren't you at dinner with the rest of the world?" 

Margaret shrugged and idly flipped through a file. "Eating in today. Well, isn't that interesting." 

Donna peeked over her shoulder and glanced at the file. "Who's this Phelps guy?" she asked, pointing to a picture in the report. 

"Head of some secret agency, or something. Something 'Mission'." She glanced at Donna for a moment, a slight smile on her lips. "We probably don't have the security clearances to look at this, do we?" 

"Probably not." She smiled as Margaret quickly closed the file and returned it to the stack. "Eating in, you said?" 

"Yeah. The mess makes the best BLTs, amazingly," she commented. The distant, content look that Margaret suddenly got in her eyes was not lost on Donna. 

"Must be," Donna muttered under her breath, a smile growing. "Say," she started in her regular voice, "I haven't heard from Leo in a while." 

Margaret snapped out of her reverie at the sound of her boss' name. "Hmm?" 

"He hasn't called to badger Josh lately," Donna explained. 

Getting a slightly confused look on her face, Margaret stated, "I didn't think he did that on a regular basis." 

"Well, he doesn't... it's just, he hasn't done it *lately*. Like, in the past week, or so." 

"Donna, are you trying to hint at something in particular?" Margaret asked bluntly. 

For the first time in a very long time, Donna was fidgety with discomfort. "It's just that, you know, people are starting to talk. The two of you... " Her voice died and she pretended to find her shoes to be interesting. 

Margaret looked followed Donna's eyes down to where they were focused. "Those are nice shoes," she quipped. "Where'd you get 'em?" 

"Talbots," Donna answered automatically. "You really like 'em? They were on sale." 

"Cool... the straps are nice. Like the heel, too. What did you mean when you said people were talking?" 

Donna looked up from her shoes. "They're saying you two are... you know. You know." 

"I do?" Margaret replied absently, still staring at the shoes. "Now, which Talbots did you get those from?" 

"The one at Wheaton Plaza. They're saying that you and Leo are... together." 

Margaret looked up in confusion. "How do the people at the Wheaton Talbots know about it?" 

Donna let that particular moment of misunderstanding slide and allowed her eyes to bulge to unnatural proportions. "I was right!" she squealed, clapping her hands together in glee. 

"Huh?" 

"I was-" She immediately returned to a calmer state. "Everybody figured that you two were. But nobody was sure." 

"Everybody... wha... ?" Margaret shook her head slightly, somewhat confused. 

"You and Leo." 

"At Talbots?" 

Donna looked at Margaret, now equally confused. "No... You and Leo, together, in that *way*." 

Margaret smiled in a confused manner, taken aback. "'That *way*'? What, exactly, is 'that *way*'?" 

"Like, sleeping together." //Way to beat around the bush, Donnatella.// 

Margaret looked at her with a surprised look on her face and seemed about to answer when she noticed that Donna's eyes had changed their focus to something //someone?// behind her. Turning, she saw that Leo was walking down the hall, a not-so-vexed look on his face. "Leo," she breathed, still somewhat taken by Donna's statement. 

Leo walked up to the two women. "What's taking so long?" he asked, placing his hands on his hips and standing next to his assisstant. "I was beginning to think that you'd been attacked by the phantom copier scrooge or something." He cracked a small smile when Margaret blushed and looked away. 

Donna looked at the two of them. //They don't even notice me. I could be standing here stark naked, banging on a conga drum, and they wouldn't notice me. Wow. I've never seen anything like that before. Usually, people would notice if I'm naked with a conga drum.// She grabbed her files and copies and slipped away to her office. 

{Part 7} 

"They were, you know, close?" 

"Really close. Like, on top of each other, almost." 

"Whoa. Are you sure?" Josh regarded his assisstant warily. 

Donna nodded vigorously. "They didn't even notice me. I was standing right there, and they were just staring all googly-eyed at each other. It was kinda weird." 

"And Margaret actually said they were..." Josh stopped, unable to actually voice the thoughts. 

Looking away for a moment, Donna replied, "Well, not in those exact words. But she *did* say they were together. Sort of. And she was *about* to say they... that they, you know..." 

Josh cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Way to go, Leo... say, who else knows?" 

"Nobody, to my knowledge." 

"And a vast storehouse of knowledge that is. Hey--ow!" 

{Part 8} 

By ten o'clock that evening, the majority of the west wing knew. 

By eleven, the President found out. 

{Part 9} 

Josiah Bartlet, President, USA, poked his head in Leo's office. His best friend was nowhere to be found. Cautiously, he walked up to the door joining Leo and Margaret's offices; it was pulled shut. He knocked and waited for the verbal assurances that he wouldn't be walking in on anything. 

Opening the door, he peeked inside to find that Margaret was alone by her desk, furiously typing (using, of course, the highly efficient two-finger method) at her computer. He scanned the semi-dark room once more before walking in. She still hadn't noticed that her office was being graced by the presence of the President of the United States of America. 

"Margaret?" 

She looked up, somewhat startled and started to stand up in his presence. "Mr. President-" 

He motioned for her to stay seated. "Relax, Margaret. Have you seen Leo?" 

"No, sir." 

"Okay." He licked his lips uncomfortably. "Um, actually, I guess I could talk to you about it..." He looked at her hopefully. 

Margaret blinked, somewhat startled by the fact that the President wanted to talk to her, the lowly peon. "Oh... okay. Um, what about?" 

Bartlet stuffed one of his hands in his pocket and waved the other around in a dismissive fashion. "I've, uh, just been hearing things, you know. About you and Leo." 

"What..." //This can't be a good thing// "... kind of things?" 

"Oh, just..." //That you're having an intimate relationship with my best friend in the whole world, which is really more than I actually wanted to know// "... people are saying that the two of you are, well, an 'item'." 

"An 'item'?" Margaret looked at him incredulously. 

Jed averted his eyes and started pacing while rubbing the back of his neck absently. "I don't mean to pry, or anything, but... I mean, I'm just wondering if... because, he's still... " 

"You want to know if we're sleeping together, don't you?" she asked, an amazed and slightly surprised smile on her face. The smile grew even larger when she saw the President's face turning red. 

"Well... gee, when you put it *that* way..." 

She laughed, a light, breezy sound. "Well, you can sleep easy tonight sir. We're not." 

As the redness retreated from his face, Bartlet looked at her in confusion. "But, you two are always coming in together... *late* together..." 

"Well, okay, we *are*," she amended. "But not the way you think," she quickly added. "We just sleep. Like, go to bed, curl up under the covers, close our eyes, and we're off to la-la-land, sir." 

Jed got a very relieved look on his face. "You mean, you just... you just *sleep* together." 

"Mm-hmm. We *almost*... you know. Twice, actually, the first night. But, Leo's not ready yet. So, I'm just there for him. And I'll be there for him when he is ready. You know, sir?" Margaret looked at him, hoping he would understand. 

Jed Bartlet regarded the tall assisstant in a new light. //She really knows what he needs, doesn't she. She's good for him.// "You like him?" 

She looked somewhat flustered by the question. "Mr. President, it's more than 'like'. I belong with him." //What's with the third degree, I wonder?// 

"Love, even?" 

"... Love, even," she admitted. She cracked a small grin. "Pass your standards, sir?" 

With a small chuckle, he nodded and turned to leave. When he got to the door, he turned back to the assisstant. "Oh, one more thing, Margaret." 

"Yes sir?" 

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but... take care of him. Please. If he doesn't have someone looking out for him, he'd give away the shirt off his back and then come down with pneumonia, you know?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Goodnight, Margaret." 

"Goodnight, Mr. President." 

{Part 10} 

Margaret crawled under the covers and lay down next to Leo's warm body. Nestling her head in the crook of his shoulder, she heard him murmur something to her. Kissing his neck, she shifted to look at him somewhat sleepily. He met her lips with a soft, full kiss, and she allowed her eyes to flutter shut for the moment, letting the world slip away. 

Breaking the kiss, Leo kept his mouth touching hers. "Margaret," he whispered huskily. 

She opened her eyes fully and stared deep into his. "Yeah?" 

He reached up to stroke her cheek. Pressing his mouth to hers, he murmured, "I'm ready..." 

-end- 


	4. Old-Fashioned Misunderstandings

**Old-Fashioned Misunderstandings**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category:** Leo/Margaret  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em. Don't sue me, all you'll get are debts and a few stale cheese curls.  
**Summary:** 3rd in the Unrequited Series  


{Part 1} 

It was late. Around midnight. And it was a cold winter's night, replete with black ice on the streets and dirty snow on the sidewalk. It was Washington, DC, in the middle of February. 

Margaret unlocked the door as Leo leaned heavily against the wall outside their apartment. She made a passing glance at her watch, barely able to keep her eyes open. //Twelve oh-one. A new day. We have to get up again in about five and a half hours.// 

The two stumbled in, sleep numbing their movements. Margaret felt rather than heard her stomach complain. They had been at the office for what seemed like forever, and the most either of them had eaten was a bag of chips each at around midday. Beside her, she could see out of the corner of her eye that Leo had already veered off into the direction of the bedroom. She chose this opportunity to check the kitchen for something fast to eat. 

Leo had already shrugged off his coat and jacket when he heard something in the kitchen. He had almost completely changed into a set of pajamas when Margaret walked in and grabbed him by the arm. 

Blindly, she led him to a seat at the table, and she forced him to sit in front of a sandwich and some soup. "Eat," she ordered, sitting down in front of her own food. 

Leo stared at his food, first uncomprehendingly, then with slight disgust. "It's after midnight," he stated. "I'm going to bed." He got up, but felt a hand pull him firmly back in place. "Margaret," he warned wearily. 

She paused, her sandwich just millimeters from her open mouth. Looking at him, she said, "Eat. You need something in you." 

"I'm going to *get* something in me in about five hours, Margaret. I'm going to bed now." He got up to leave again, and was not stopped this time. 

Margaret gave her sandwich one last tired look before putting it down. She walked after Leo, her long legs eating up the distance between them. "Leo. You haven't had a good meal *once* in the past three days. You have to eat something." 

"I've got more important things to do," he muttered as he crawled under the covers. "Now go to sleep." 

"I'm gonna eat something first," she muttered as she turned back to the kitchen. 

Leo closed his eyes and tried to get to sleep. He was too wired from the days events, however. Burying his head in his pillow, he let out a stifled sigh and clenched his eyes even more shut. He could vaguely hear Margaret cleaning up in the kitchen. //I should've eaten with her. At least stayed out there with her. Damn, but I haven't talked anything but politics with her for the past week, it seems. I should've stayed out there with her. Damn.// 

When Margaret came into the bedroom, she saw Leo on his side, facing away from her, seemingly asleep. She changed her clothes quickly and quietly, crawling in beside him. She reached out to wrap her arms around him, but thought better of it. //Don't want to wake him up. He needs his sleep.// 

Beside him, Leo could feel Margaret's heat as she lay beside him. He was used to her holding him close, so he was a little sad when she settled in without putting her arms around him. //But, damn, I should've just sat with her. That wouldn't have been so hard, now would it? I'm still awake, anyway.// He was about to turn and apologize, but the steady sound of her breathing warned him that she was already asleep. 

The next morning, Margaret was woken up by a soft touch on her cheek. Blinking out the sleep, she turned to face Leo. He grinned down at her, and helped her get up. He slipped a robe around her shoulders and pulled her towards the kitchen, where he promptly set her down in front of a plate of breakfast and a mug of steaming coffee. 

"Eat," he commanded, playfully mocking her same statement from the night before. 

She looked from her plate to him. "What about you?" she asked, still tired. 

"I'm fine. Had a little something already." 

With a shrug and a small smile, she dug into her eggs wholeheartedly. "Leo," she said through a mouthful. "These are good!" 

"I know," he stated as he looked over his crossword puzzle. 

"I mean," she went on, taking another bite, "not only can you avert world disaster, you can also make one hell of an omelet. I'm impressed!" 

He grinned despite himself. "Okay." Glancing down at his watch, he started to get up. "Gotta leave in half an hour. I'm gonna hit the shower." And with that, he dropped the paper and left. 

Margaret stopped eating for a second and watched him depart. The eggs *were* good, but they weren't as good now that she didn't have anyone to talk to about them. Hesitantly, she picked at them a bit before finishing them off. 

{Part 2} 

"Margaret, I need that memo, ASAP." Before the words were out of his mouth, Leo was holding the memo in his hand. "Get Thompson on the line, would you?" he asked, turning to go right back into his office. 

Margaret quickly punched in the senator's number and glanced at her watch. //Eleven thirty. Wonder when he'll notice.// She heard Leo talking to Senator Thompson in his office. It was a heated conversation, judging by the way Leo was snapping at him. Finally, Margaret heard the phone being slammed down. Poking her head into his office, she saw Leo holding his head in his hands with barely contained frustration. 

"Leo?" //I'm not bringing it up now... I'll just give it to him later. Tonight.// "I'm going down to get these copied," she stated, showing him a file folder. 

He nodded silently and set his hands palm down on his desk, inhaling deeply. "Okay," he stated finally, picking up the memo that Margaret had handed him earlier. He did not notice when she silently left his office. Instead, he focused on how to get Thompson to throw his weight behind the bill that the President was trying to get passed. There was a page missing from the memo, so Leo got up and walked over to Margaret's desk. 

The missing page was on top of one of the many stacks of paper on her desk. He swept it up and gave it a cursory glance to make sure that it was the right thing. As he turned back to his own office, something on Margaret's desk caught his eye. 

"Hello, what's this," he murmured, picking up the small, brightly wrapped box. He was about to read the tag on it when he heard Margaret come back in. He turned to face her. 

Margaret looked, somewhat startled, as Leo stood by her desk. Her eyes wondered down to the box in his hands, then up to his confused face. "Leo... I was gonna give you that later..." //He forgot.// 

He looked down at it. "What is it?" 

She cracked a weak smile. "You know what today is?" Her smile faltered a bit as his brows furrowed in thought. 

"Wednesday? The four-" //-teenth. The fourteenth, of February. I forgot. Oh, damn.// "Oh, damn." He put the box down and leaned heavily on her desk. "Oh, Margaret, I'm so sorry... I promise you I'll make it up to you." He looked at her pleadingly. 

"It's okay, Leo," she stated wholeheartedly. "You're not too good with dates, I know that." 

For a moment, Leo still looked a little apologetic. Then, with a smile, he walked over to Margaret and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Margaret." He walked back to his office. At the door, he turned back to face her. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Okay?" 

"Okay." As soon as he went back into his office, the smile left Margaret's face. She put the folder down on her desk and picked up the box. //He'll make it up to me. It's okay.// 

Later that morning, Margaret was still at her desk. Senator Thompson was proving to be a very hard sell, and Leo had left earlier to try and talk some sense into him. Margaret was left at her desk to take messages and put together reports, as usual. 

"Hey Margaret." 

She looked up at her visitor. "He's not back yet, Toby. Need anything?" 

He handed her a document. "Ask him to look over this as soon as possible. We need it for the press conference today." She took it from him, and he turned to leave. At the door, he glanced back at her. "Margaret." 

"Yeah, Toby?" Her reply was just a little different from the usual. A little quieter. 

"You doing okay?" He did not usually like to pry, but there was just something a little sad about Margaret today. "You seem a little... I don't know, quiet." 

She blinked, a little surprised at Toby's question. "I-I'm fine. Thanks." 

He did not really accept that answer, but he nodded anyway. "Okay. I'll see ya." With that, he left her office. Walking back to the communications bullpen, Toby just could not seem to get Margaret's slightly saddened visage out of his mind. Distracted by that thought, he accidently bumped into Leo, who was walking down the hall as fast as possible. 

"Leo-" Toby watched in amazement as Leo just walked right past him. 

"Sorry," Leo called out behind him, not quite knowing who it was that he had bumped into. He was a man on a mission. 

Margaret's hands flew off her keyboard as her office door was swung open widely. "Leo's not in yet," came her automatic response as she looked up in surprise. 

"I am now," Leo stated, standing in her doorway triumphantly. Closing the door behind him, he added, "I told you I was gonna make it up to you, right?" He walked up to her desk and showed her a small box. "I got you something." 

Margaret pushed her keyboard away, momentarily dazzled by Leo's bright grin and boisterous step. "You--oh. Well, here." She picked up her own box and handed it to him. "It's only a-" 

"No, no, don't tell me," he interrupted. "I want to find out for myself." And with that, he carefully unwrapped the box and opened it. "Oh, Margaret... this is... wow." 

"It's just a pen," she stated, blushing slightly. 

"It's a *nice* pen," he said, fingering the intricate silver design of the cap warmly. "And it's got my name on it!" He chuckled appreciatively. "I'm definitely not gonna lose this one. Thanks," he added, giving her a kiss on the forehead before perching himself on the edge of her desk and handing her the small box he had walked in with. 

Margaret threw him a questioning glance while she unwrapped her gift. The small felt-covered box under the wrapping paper was heavy in her hand. Carefully, slowly, she opened it, revealing a delicate looking gold ring with a small blue stone studded with diamonds. Still staring at it, she said breathlessly, "I only got you a pen..." 

"I like the pen," he retorted playfully. "Here, try it on." 

"What, the pen?" 

"The ring. Try on the ring." He took the box from her and withdrew the ring. Meaning to place the now-empty box on the desk, he accidently dropped in on the floor behind him. Grumbling a bit, much to Margaret's amusement, he got down on the ground and reached under her desk for the misplaced box. "There's the bastard," he muttered as he grabbed the box and assumed a more comfortable, kneeling position. 

He looked up at Margaret, who was fighting to keep the grin off her face. "What's so funny?" 

She opened her mouth as if to speak, surveying the scene before her: Leo, down on one knee, ring in hand, totally oblivious to what it looked like he was doing. Just then, a knock on her door grabbed her attention. The two of them turned to face whoever it was who was coming in. 

"Listen, Margaret-" Toby stopped mid-sentence as he noticed what was going on: Leo, down on one knee, ring in hand. "Oh..." Backing out of the office, he let a flicker of a smile grace his face before heading back to the communications bullpen. 

Leo stared after him in confusion while Margaret tried to stifle her laughter. Leo turned his still-confused gaze on Margaret and repeated, "What's so funny?" 

{Part 3} 

Bonnie and Ginger exchanged curious glances as their boss stormed past them and into his own office. They both jumped a little in their seats as he slammed the door shut. And they both looked at him in complete and utter confusion when he opened that door moments later and waggled a finger at the two of them. 

"Nobody comes in here," he commanded quietly. Oblivious to their still-confused looks, Toby spun on his heel and closed the door behind him, walking back into his office. The door shut behind him, more quietly than before. 

"Get it out of your head, Toby," he muttered to himself, settling down with pad and pen in hand. The yellow legal pad remained blank as the scene from Leo's office replayed itself in Toby's mind. 

"Get what out of your head?" 

Toby looked up at the six-foot-tall, red-headed intrusion of the female persuasion. "Nothing," he replied quietly. "I thought I told those two not to let anyone in." 

"I outrank you," CJ stated, closing the door behind her. 

"I think you've got that backwards," he replied, turning his attention back to the still-blank legal pad. 

"So sue me." 

"If you want me to, okay." 

"Get what out of your head?" 

With an exasperated sigh, Toby motioned to his pad. "Can't you see I'm busy here?" 

CJ grabbed the pad and stared at the blank paper, a smile growing on her lips. "Very busy, I see. Get what out of your head?" 

"Nothing!" He snatched his pad back and flopped down in his chair. Moments later, he glanced up to see CJ pulling a chair up right in front of him. "What are you doing?" 

"I've got womanly wiles. I'm not afraid to use them." 

Toby looked at her with a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "'Womanly wiles'? Look, CJ-" 

"Bend under the pressure of my wiles, Toby." 

"-I really have work to do." He stared at her, eye to eye, completely unbent under the pressure of her wiles. 

Not looking defeated in the least, CJ got up and walked out of Toby's office. A moment later, she walked right back in, looking somewhat triumphant. "You went to see Leo." 

"Don't you have work, too?" 

"You went to see Leo," she repeated, unphased. "And this is what I came in here to do," she added, putting a manila folder on Toby's desk. 

He grabbed it and tried to ignore her staring. Finally, he relented. "I went to see Leo, yes. This is what workers do when they need to talk to their bosses." 

CJ sat back down in the chair. "Bend, Toby." 

"No." He settled down with the folder, perusing its contents. Glancing back up, he saw that she was still staring. "No," he repeated, with a little more vehemence. 

"You were in Leo's office," CJ mused aloud. "Was Margaret there?" 

With a sigh, Toby dropped the folder to his desk. "You can't play this game with me, CJ. This is me. This is Toby." 

"And any Toby can be bent by the pressures of the womanly wiles of any corresponding CJ," she countered. "Was Margaret there? Keep in mind that I know when you're lying." 

"I can just, you know, refuse to answer," Toby muttered somewhat absently, picking the folder up again. 

CJ stared on. 

"You're crazy," he stated after a few moments of being stared at. 

"And you saw something," she countered evenly. 

"Go back to your office," he commanded. 

"No," she replied. 

"Fine. Stay here." Toby tried to get back to work, even with CJ staring at him. Eventually, it was too much, even for the level-headed Toby Ziegler. "It was so romantic, CJ, I just walked right in and-" He cut his sudden flow of words off abruptly. With a tiny smile, he went right back to work. 

CJ had started to lean towards him ever so slightly, waiting for him to finish the explanation. A few long seconds passed without him speaking. "And what?" she prodded impatiently. 

"Nothing." His smile grew a bit, and he started jotting down notes on his legal pad. "Nothing at all." 

CJ stared at him, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "You are absolutely incorrigible," she muttered, frustrated. 

"Thank you. I try." After a moment, he looked up at CJ. "Why are you still here?" 

"I'm waiting for you to bend under the-" 

"-pressures of your womanly wiles. Yeah, yeah. Not gonna happen." He went back to work. 

CJ shook her head, still amazed that Toby was holding out. Suddenly, she got a look as if a grand idea had just dawned on her. Smiling smugly, she leaned in dangerously close to Toby and whispered in his ear, "Tell me... and I'll do The Jackal." 

Toby inhaled sharply. "The Jackal?" he repeated quietly, trying to avoid eye contact. "You mean, now?" 

"Yes." CJ's voice had taken on a husky, sultry tone. "Here." 

Blinking rapidly, Toby weighed his options. He hesitated ever so slightly before shaking his head. "No. No." 

"Just for you, Toby... no one else. Bend, Toby, bend..." 

Moments later, Bonnie and Ginger looked up almost simultaneously as Toby's door opened. Out strutted CJ, a smug smile on her face, her jacket slung over one shoulder carelessly. Bonnie ventured a glance inside the office; her boss was leaning his elbows on his desk, and held his head in his hands. 

{Part 4} 

"Margaret." 

Margaret looked up from the copier and saw a suspicious-looking Ginger. "Yeah?" 

"So, tell us..." 

She whirled around and saw that Bonnie was coming towards her from the opposite side. The assisstant to the Chief of Staff was being surrounded. "Y-yeah?" Margaret repeated, a little worried. 

"What exactly did Toby see?" Ginger asked bluntly. Bonnie shot her an icy glare; Ginger rolled her eyes. 

Margaret looked at Ginger, then at Bonnie, somewhat confused. "What do you mean?" 

"In Leo's office," Bonnie elaborated. "Earlier today." 

Eyes downcast in thought, Margaret mentally reviewed her day thusfar. After a short moment, a smile started growing on her face. "Oh, *that*..." 

"Margaret!" 

The three secretaries whirled around to face the source of that decidedly male voice. They saw Leo striding down the hallway, a slightly cross look on his face. "Margaret, where's that memo on the defense budget?" 

"In the upper-left drawer of your desk," she answered evenly. "Where you put it after I handed it to you." 

The cross look on his face turned to momentary confusion, then to sheepishness. "You sure?" 

Rolling her eyes, Margaret grabbed the copied files from the machine and walked back to Leo's office. "I'll show you," she muttered as Leo guiltily fell in to step behind her. 

Bonnie and Ginger exchanged glances. "Well, that didn't work," Ginger stated at length. 

"Yeah," Bonnie agreed glumly. A smile slowly spread on her face as and idea dawned on her. "You know who might know? Carol." 

"You think CJ told her?" Ginger asked, somewhat dubiously. "I mean... CJ wouldn't tell just anybody. Right?" 

With a shrug, Bonnie replied, "Hey, it's worth a shot." And off they went, to the Press Secretary's office. 

When they got there, Carol was hard at work, scribbling notes furiously while listening to someone on the phone. Her eyes were on a yellow legal pad, and the only thing anyone heard her say was variations on the words, "uh-huh," and "yeah". Finally, she hung up, rubbed her eyes tiredly, and leaned back in her chair. 

"Hi," Ginger greeted cheerily. 

"'Sup," Carol stated, clearly distracted. 

"Toby saw something in Leo's office and told CJ. We want to know what it is," Bonnie said bluntly. 

"Go ask Margaret," Carol replied as she set about typing up the furiously scribbled notes. 

Toby's assisstants exchanged curious glances. "You seem busy," Ginger finally stated. 

With a smile, Carol replied, "This is the White House. Of *course* I'm busy." Confusion set in on her face, and she looked up at the two who were still standing before her desk. "Say, why aren't you two busy? This is the White House." 

"Cuz Toby's hanging his head in shame and hasn't given us anything to do," Bonnie answered somewhat triumphantly. "So, you think you can find out what happened in Leo's office that Toby found out and told to CJ?" 

"Is that sentence even in correct English?" Carol complained. When neither of them answered, she relented. "Yeah, I'll find out. Just lemme finish this report first." 

She watched as Bonnie and Ginger exited her office and went back to work. Her report finished, she got up and went to deliver it to her boss. Knocking on CJ's door, Carol stated, "Here's what you needed." She eyed the press secretary for a moment, taking in CJ's distant smile and distracted eyes. CJ still had not acknowledged Carol's presence in the room. 

"CJ?" 

CJ snapped back to reality and looked dumbly at Carol, a smile still on her face. "Hmm? Oh, thanks." She took the report, glanced at it absentmindedly, and sat down. Moments later, she was back in la-la-land, staring at nothing at all, lost in thought. 

A smile started to turn the corners of Carol's mouth upward. "CJ. You haven't looked like this since you found out that your brother was getting married. What's going on?" 

Blushing at the fact that her assisstant could read her so readily, CJ shook her head. "Nothing." 

"C'mon," Carol prodded, leaning comfortably against the door frame. "Who's getting married?" 

"I can't say," CJ answered, trying to look busy by putting on her glasses and glancing at the report. 

"So someone *is* getting married," Carol mused aloud. 

CJ's head snapped up, and she stared at Carol slack-jawed, embarrassed by that obvious slip. Trying to recover the situation, she stated, "I never said that." 

"Y'know, Toby's right. You really *can't* lie." With a smirk, Carol left CJ's office, and headed towards the communications bullpen. Upon reaching it, she could clearly see Toby in his office, attempting work, and Bonnie and Ginger casting him somewhat concerned glances. She stopped at the secretaries' desks. 

"Ladies, do I have an announcement for you," she began triumphantly, a wide smile plastered on her face. 

From his desk, Toby heard Carol's statement. He looked up just in time to catch the happy gasps of his two secretaries as Carol whispered something conspiratorily to them. He groaned in frustration as he thought about what that 'something' could be. 

Two minutes after Bonnie and Ginger found out, Donna knew. One minute after Donna knew, Josh knew. Forty seconds after Josh knew, Sam knew. Ten minutes after Sam knew, Ainsley knew. And finally, three minutes after Ainsley knew, it somehow slipped out during a conversation she was having with Lionel Tribbey. 

"Do I look as if I *care*?" he asked, his voice going up ten decibles on the last word. "We're about to get hit *really* hard by the house Republicans on this bill, and all you can think about is some lovey-dovey rumor that has nothing to do with *any*thing of im*port*ance! Gyah!" 

Ainsley Hayes levelled a cool gaze on her boss. "A: It's not the only thing I'm focused on. It just slipped out. B: We're not going to get hit *that* hard. It's just a slight drop in defense spending, a drop that's going towards education. C: You have to admit it's fairly romantic, proposing on Valentine's Day." 

Rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air frustratedly, Lionel stated, "It's only Valentine's Day. It's not *that* big of a deal." 

Ainsley stared pointedly at the tie Tribbey was wearing. "Red with pink hearts, Lionel. Red with pink hearts." 

The fire gone from his countenance, he sagged slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "My wife made me wear it," he mumbled lamely. 

"I bet she made you dress up like Santa Claus, too." 

He shot her an icy glare, grabbed the report they'd composed, and spun on his heel dramatically. "I'm taking this up to Leo. And *quit* with the Santa jokes! It's been three-going-on-four months already!" 

He stomped up the stairs angrily, trying not to hear Ainsley chuckling behind him. His ire was quickly replaced by a warm fuzziness that threatened to make him grin. Truth be told, Lionel Tribbey was a sucker for a good romance. 

By the time he made it to Leo's office, a stupid grin was firmly planted on his face, and people were looking at him oddly because of it. He paid them no notice, and strided into Leo's office without preamble. "Leo," he called in a sickeningly sweet voice. "I have that report you need." 

Leo was seated behind his desk, working through a veritable stack of memos. When he heard Tribbey's voice, he looked up slowly, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "Lionel?" he asked, still doubting the identity of the man who was standing in his doorway. 

"Yes, Leo?" Lionel stole a glance at Margaret's office, sighed happily, and smiled even wider at Leo. 

"What manner of glue have you been sniffing?" 

The smile on Tribbey's face was gone immediately. He angrily slammed the folder down on Leo's desk, and turned to leave. "I just wanted to congratulate you," he stated, spinning suddenly to face Leo again, "and you just sit there and imply not only that I am *high*, but that I am also *too cheap* to buy drugs, and, rather, hop on down to the local *art* store and pick up a bottle of *Elmer's Glue* to feed my so-called addiction!" He stared at Leo, waiting for some sort of apology. 

Leo stared at him, still slack-jawed, still wide-eyed, and now, also, confused. "Back up a minute. Congratulate me? What the hell for?" 

"Uh, *marriage*?" He stared at Leo with a look that said, 'Gee, you're dense, aren't you'. However, the very thought of anyone getting married quickly wiped away any skeptical thoughts and that look was quickly replaced by a bright smile as he turned to leave. "Anyway, congratulations," Tribbey added as he walked out the door. 

Leo sat in his chair, even more confused. //Marriage? When on earth did I-// "Toby. The ring. Oh, god..." He bolted out of his chair and left his office, making a beeline to the communications bullpen. 

{Part 5a} 

Bonnie and Ginger exchanged knowing glances as Leo strode quickly and fervorently into Toby's office. The two smiled as they realized that the chief of staff, in his haste, did not close the door behind him. 

"Toby," Leo stated breathlessly, "it's not what you think." 

Toby, who, to this minute was still trying to put his transgression behind him, looked up from the still-blank legal pad. "Leo? What are you talking about?" 

"You told someone I proposed to Margaret, didn't you?" Leo asked, only slightly accusatory. 

Toby ducked his head slightly. "She... she sang The Jackal," he mumbled by way of an excuse. "I'm sorry..." 

Leo looked at him with a little confusion before shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Look, it really doesn't matter. See, we're not... I didn't propose to her. So, there's not gonna be any marriages anytime soon." He looked at Toby, to make sure Toby understood completely what he was saying. 

Toby, surprised and just a little relieved, merely said, "Oh... okay." He watched, somewhat dazed, as Leo strode right back out of his office. 

Outside, Bonnie and Ginger watched Leo's retreating form, both thinking the same thing: we've got work to do. As soon as Leo was out of sight, they got up and began the rounds again. 

Leo, unknowledgable of the Terrible Twosome's 'work', made it back to his office, sure that Toby would clear up the whole misunderstanding quickly and neatly. A mere ten minutes after he sat back down to work, his door was thrust open by a whirling dervish of egocentric obnoxion. 

"LEO!!" 

"Good to see you again, Lionel," Leo stated, not even glancing up from the report he was annotating. 

"It's only-" Lionel paused to glance at his red, heart-shaped watch. "-Eleven forty-eight, and *already* you've destroyed my festive Valentine's Day mood! I swear, Leo, I'd strangle you with my *tie* if I thought it would infuse some sort of romantic feelings into you!" 

At this, Leo looked up. "A: I'm sorry, Lionel, I just don't feel that way about you, and B: where on earth did you get that tie, anyway? It's horrid." 

"You were going to marry Margaret, and now you're not. I'm appaled at your lack of Valentine's Day cheer." 

"Leo's gonna marry Margaret?" 

Both Leo and Lionel looked, in equal vexation, upon the newest addition to their conversation. "Yes, sir, he was. And now he's not," Lionel stated. 

President Bartlet cast a confused and somewhat dismayed look on Leo. "When were you gonna tell me, and why on *earth* did you change your mind?" 

Rolling his eyes and slamming his pen down in frustration, Leo raged, "I didn't propose to Margaret! I never had any *plans* to propose Margaret! There are going to be *no* Leo-Margaret nuptials any time in the foreseeable future! It's... it's... a damn silly idea!" 

Bartlet eyed Leo with some form of fear in his eyes before stating, "I'll get back to ya in a few." He glanced up and looked at something beyond Leo and Lionel before heading back into his own office. 

Leo glanced at the spot that Bartlet had glanced at, but saw nothing other than Margaret's door. Turning back to Lionel, he elaborated, "Look. This is what happened. I got Margaret a ring. Just as a gift, a present. I dropped the box, kneeled down to pick it up, and Toby walked in. He jumped to the wrong conclusion, and that's *all*. There was never even any *talk* of engagements, or proposals, or--or-" He let the sentence hang in the air, unable to say that one word. 

Lionel sniffed contemptuously and sulked towards the door. "I still say it would've been romantic." With that, he left. 

{Part 5b} 

"I never had any *plans* to propose Margaret! There are going to be *no* Leo-Margaret nuptials any time in the foreseeable future! It's... it's... a damn silly idea!" 

Margaret closed the door between her and Leo's office silently. The slight smile that had been brought on by Lionel's neurotic voice completely vanished at Leo's proclamation. She had been completely prepared to walk into Leo's office with another of a seemingly endless stream of memos, but after hearing that definitive statement, suddenly had the urge to sit down. 

"It's nothing," she tried to reassure herself. "He just said that... he... doesn't want-" Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes?" 

Toby walked in, files in hand, eyes on the papers. "Margaret, Leo in?" Before he could get an answer, he grimaced and turned around. "Damn, forgot something. Be right back." 

As soon as he left, Margaret heard Leo's door open behind her. "Hey, Margaret, hungry?" 

Margaret turned to face him, noting his somewhat frazzled from the ongoings of the day, yet still somehow calm. She turned back to her desk. "Um, I've got some work to do, Leo," she said, trying to keep her voice even. //He brushed me off at breakfast, and last night, and forgets Valentine's Day--okay, so he's bad with dates, but still, he couldn't see the endless reds and pinks in the halls today? And now this...// 

Leo watched her as she turned to face her computer. "Margart, no you don't," he retorted, though somewhat softly. "I *gave* you that work, remember? 

"Well, Leo, I--you know, I just can't. I've got the report you need to get to Sardis, and-" 

"Margaret. Come to lunch." 

"I can't." 

Leo stood in the doorway, wondering what had brought about this sudden cold shoulder from Margaret. She was turned away from him, facing the computer, working studiously. A little confused, he nodded, said, "Okay," and left. 

Margaret heard him leave, behind her. As soon as the door shut, her shoulders sagged and she dropped her head into her hands. 

At that moment, Toby returned from his office. He saw Margaret at her desk, and decided that now was probably not the best time to startle her. Casting his eyes down at the report, he coughed slightly and began, "Margaret, can you get these to Leo as soon as possible? He needs them for a one o'clock meeting." 

Margaret looked up at the sudden sound of Toby's voice, immediately composing herself. "Wha-yes. Yes, here." She got up and took the report from Toby. 

//She looks pretty sad... this is probably all my fault.// "Listen, Margaret, if you, uh..." 

Margaret turned to look at him quizically. "Yes, Toby?" 

"If you ever need to talk about, I dunno, anything." He paused, looked away for a moment, then continued. "I mean, I'm here to talk to." 

"Oh." Blinking a few times, she added, "Um, there's nothing wrong." Her voice sounded slightly strained, a little higher than normal, maybe. 

Toby eyed her dubiously, and said softly, "Margaret, you can talk to me. No matter what about, it's okay." As he kept his gaze on her, it looked as if she were about to say something, but every time she opened her mouth to talk, she clamped it shut again, not willing to trust her voice to speak. 

Finally, she turned to put the papers on her desk and repeated, "There's nothing wrong." 

Toby closed the door and stepped a little closer to her. "Yes there is. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but stop denying there's something wrong." 

Biting her lip slightly, Margaret met Toby's understanding gaze with her own worried one. "Um, can we talk... now?" 

Toby nodded and sat down, ready to listen. 

{Part 6} 

"Leo." 

"Toby, you seen Margaret? She left this report on my desk, and I need her to pull a file, but she's not around." Leo did not even look up from his near-frantic search. 

Pulling the door closed behind him, Toby wathced as Leo searched every corner of Margaret's office for the file in wuestion. "She took off for lunch," he replied after a moment. 

Leo stopped his search for one momend to cast a confused look on Toby. "Lunch?" 

"Yeah. Um, look, Leo, we've gotta talk." 

Resuming his search, McGarry nodded his head. "I know. Between you and me, this bill isn't looking too good." 

Shaking his head, Toby stated quietly, "Not about that. Leo, you're a great politician." 

Walking over to the file cabinet, the chief of staff eyed Toby skeptically. "You sure that's a compliment?" 

"I can't think of anyone better qualified to be running this White House," Ziegler added. 

"Except the President, of course," Leo mumbled as he thumbed through a nearly endless sea of manila folders. "There it is! Whe the hell is a memo from Senator Dodd filed under 'M'?" 

"I dunno. M for memo." He shrugged and went on. "The thing is, Leo, you're an idiot at relationships." 

"This coming from the king of relationships himself," Leo quipped as he walked into his own office. 

"Leo," he began, a hint of exasperation tainting his voice. "When you told Lionel the whole 'no marriage' spiel, Margaret heard you." 

"No she didn't. She wasn't around." With that, Leo sat down to work, thinking the conversation to be over with. 

"Leo, you practically screamed it. Nomads in Mongolia probably heard you! Couple that with the fact that you've been putting her on the back-burner the past few weeks-" 

"This bill is extremely important to this administration," Leo interrupted vehemently. "And Margaret knows that. She realizes that re-election comes first, Toby." 

"Leo, listen to me!" The urgency in Toby's voice startled Leo, and he could not do anything but sit back and listen. "Margaret's had bad relationships before, you know. Guys... who just wanted that one thing, then just sort of, I dunno, leave after a while. You see what I'm getting at, Leo?" 

"Kinda, but not really." 

"Okay. When did we really start to push this bill?" 

"About, say, two and a half weeks ago," Leo answered. 

"And when did you and Margaret, you know. When did... when was it that the two of you... don't make me say it, Leo." Toby fidgeted slightly as he waited for realization to dawn on his boss. 

"I really don't see how that's any of your damn business," he replied gruffly. 

With a nod, Toby stated, "Okay, you're right, but Margaret said about two and a half, three weeks ago. Sound right?" 

"You talked to Margaret about this? What the hell-" 

"Listen, Leo," Toby interrupted. "Margaret's put two and two together, and the answer she got is that you're really not taking it seriously. That this is just... a jaunt, a, a thing that you're doing." 

Leo was staring blankly at some point beyond Toby; his visage was ashen. After a few long silent seconds, he slowle moved his gaze to Toby's face. "How... how do you know this?" 

"I talked to Margaret earlier, when you were at lunch," he admitted, his tone softer than earlier. "She, uh, she told me a lot." 

Leo nodded slowly. "Toby?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Where is she? She's not at lunch, is she." 

Toby looked away, not wanting to face Leo upon answering. "In her car, somewhere between your place and hers. Leo, I tried to talk her out of it, but..." He scratched the back of his head in the awkwardness that followed that sentence. "She's switching jobs with someone at the OEOB. I dunno when she'll be by for her stuff." He waited for Leo's response. 

After a few long moments, Leo blinked a little and looked down at the memo on his desk. "Go back to work, Toby," he stated finally. 

"Leo?" 

"Go back to work. We've got a bill to pass and a country to run." 

As Toby left his office, Leo placed his head in his hands and let out a deep, shuddering breath, the piece of legislation being the last thing on his mind. Eventually, he raised his head and looked at the memo before him, realizing that there was no way he would get any work done until this was fixed. Slowly, a plan started to form in his mind. He got up and walked out of his office to see Toby. 

When he got to the Toby's office, Leo saw him poring over a scrawled-on legal pad, completely caught up in his work. The chief of staff hesitated a moment before turning around to leave. 

"You're here, obviously you need something. Sit, I'll be done in a second." 

With a trace of a smirk, Leo went back into the office, taking care to close the door behind him. "I, uh, I need to fix this." 

Toby glanced up briefly from the speech he was working on. "Yes, you do." 

"I have this plan, you see. I've got to run out and get this thing. And it doesn't involve you at all, except..." 

"Yes?" 

"I need someone to be on the lookout for Margaret. Since you're the only one who knows about this, you know, I was wondering if you could. Be on the lookout, I mean." 

"You want me to keep her around if I see her." At Leo's pensive nod, he looked back down at his speech. "Okay." 

Leo bolted out of the chair and headed for the door. "If she comes in, call me on my cell. If not, give me, say, a half hour. Maybe an hour. And Toby?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks." 

"Yeah." 

{Part 7} 

Margaret surveyed her old apartment. It was in dire need of dusting and vacuuming, but, with all her things back in place, it looked as normal as the day she'd left it. She had kept up rent payment just because she did not want to deal with the hassle of moving all her stuff into storage; she hadn't figured that she'd be moving back in. 

But here she was, back where she had begun in this city. With a small sigh, she grabbed the nearest empty box and made her way out the door. The apartment had a nostalgic feel to it, as many buildings in DC did, and was in a fairly decent neighborhood. In fact, with the exception of the break-in that short month and a half ago, there had been no reports of any misdeeds in the area lately. And the super was a nice man. 

Walking down the staircase, she could hear her nice super arguing with someone. His almost fatherly protectiveness over his residents brought a tiny smile to her face. 

"I'm telling you, I cannot tell you that. I cannot tell you where she lives, sir," her super was saying. 

"Just--look. Here's my ID. Can you tell me now, which apartment she's in?" 

Margaret froze on the staircase, eyes wide, as she recognized the voice. She was glad for the fact that the architecture of the building hid her from view. Quickly, she turned around, hoping beyond hope that her super would not be easily wowed by a White House ID badge. 

Apparently, it was too much to hope for, because as she walked back to her apartment, she could hear him giving Leo her apartment number. //Just get inside, shut the door, and pretend you're not here// she thought to herself. //If all else fails, there's always the fire escape.// 

"Margaret!" 

Closing her eyes, she placed her hand on the doorknob. "Yes, Leo?" 

"Can we talk?" Leo looked at her back, waiting for her to turn around. "I really need to tell you something." 

"Leo, I'm not in the mood for this..." 

He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around. "Margaret, please come back. I know I screwed up, please. I'm not one of those other guys." 

"Funny, that's what they said, too," she quipped dryly as she turned away from him again. She opened her door, trying to ignore his presence. 

"Margaret, you know I won't always be there, right? But, I'll be there when you need me, I can promise that," he stated, following her into her apartment. 

"Sounds awfully familiar. See, here's the thing. I don't remember inviting you in." 

"Margaret." 

"Leo." 

"Margaret!" 

"What." 

"Marry me." 

{Part 8} 

Up until this point, Margaret had been moving steadily away from him as he stayed by the door. She had her back to him the entire time. Upon hearing that last statement, she whirled to face him. 

A little dumbstruck, she mumbled, "They never said *that* before..." 

Siezing his chance, he strided towards her, pulled out a ring box, and got down on one knee. "Consider this morning a dry run, huh?" At her shocked expression, he added, "You can answer any time, you know." 

"Um, well... Y'know, I'm gonna hafta say no." When she saw the heartbroken look on Leo's face, she quickly amended, "I'll come back, though. I'm coming back, Leo. See?" 

Heartbreak turned into utter confusion in the span of about a millisecond. "You know, I don't really see, no." 

"Well, the thing--Leo, stand up, would you? You're short enough as it is." She waited patiently for him to get up before continuing. "The thing is, I just... Toby tried to explain it all to me, and I didn't listen to him. I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I'm so sorry, Leo." 

Leo looked at her in surprise. "*You're* sorry? *I'm* the one who screwed up, remember?" 

Staring at him in amusement, Margaret said, "Uh, okay. You screwed up then. And that's what we're gonna tell people, if they ask." 

"Why do I feel I'm getting the short end of the deal here?" 

She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Because you're chivalrous, an chivalrous guys always get screwed like that." 

"Oh." He grinned at her mischeviously. "Always get screwed?" Receiving a smack on the head in reply, he yelped and stated, "You could get shot for something like that, you know." Rubbing his head and looking down at the ring box forlornly, he sighed. "What the hell am I gonna do with this?" 

Margaret cocked her head to the side and glanced at the ring box. "Put it away and help me start packing again. This is all your fault, you know." 

"Okay. I can believe that. We're re-packing now?" 

"Yeah, unless-" Margaret furrowed her brows in thought for a moment. "Oh, wait. You've got a meeting on the hill in about forty-five minutes, don't you?" 

"Hold that thought," Leo told her. He whipped out his cell phone, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. "Hello, Josh," he said into the phone. "Think you can handle that meeting alone today?" Waiting for an answer, he nodded. "Yeah, I've got some business needs attending to. Okay, then. Bye." He closed the phone and grinned at Margaret. "We're re-packing, then." 

"Leo, did you just bail out of that meeting?" 

"Yeah." 

"That really important meeting, that could cost us re-election if we don't do well?" 

"Well, yeah..." 

"Call Josh back, and tell him you're going to the meeting." 

"But-" 

"Call." 

A slight look of fear creeping onto his face, Leo flipped open the phone and hit the redial. "Josh? Change of plans. I'm gonna be there." He frowned at the sound Josh made at the other end of the line before hanging up. "Well, that was odd." 

"What's that?" 

"He made the sound of a whip cracking before he hung up." 

{Epilogue} 

"So, lemme get this straight. Toby thought Leo proposed." 

"Yes, dear." 

"But Leo didn't, really." 

"Right." 

"However, the entire building had heard the rumor that he *had* proposed." 

"Mm-hmm." 

"Then, he hears it from Lionel, and runs to tell Toby that Toby was mistaken." 

"Yup." 

"And now the entire building knows that he has not, in fact, proposed." 

"Uh-huh." 

"So, at this point Lionel comes up to call Leo a blithering idiot, and that's when Leo practically screams that he's got no intention of ever marrying Margaret." 

"Correct." 

"And Margaret decides to leave him." 

"This is all true." 

"And the whole building knew?" 

"Yes." 

"Except me." 

"Of course." 

"Upon Leo's return, may I kill him?" 

Abbey let out an exasperated sigh. This was the third time that the two of them had had this discussion. "No, Jed, you cannot kill Leo." 

"But why?" Jed whined, a small pout on his face. 

"Because," Abbey started pragmatically, "he's your friend, he runs your White House, and it's just not nice to go around killing people. Not to mention the fact that it's illegal, and it would give Lionel a heart attack. And we don't want to give Lionel Tribbey a heart attack, now, do we?" 

"No," he mumbled guiltily. His face brightened as he heard a door closing somewhere outside his office. "He's back, the little ba-" 

"Jed!" 

"Ow! I've gotta go talk to him--about the hill meeting, I swear!" The President scurried to escape the cross look his wife was throwing him. Crossing over into Leo's office, he quickly replaced the frightened look on his face with one of determination. "Leo," he greeted, smiling conspiratorilly. 

Leo had been grinning when he'd walked in. The grin faltered slightly when he saw the President. "Uh, Mr. President?" 

"Yes?" 

"We got the votes." His grin returned full force as he continued. "The bill's gonna pass." 

"When were you gonna tell me?" 

A look of confusion passed over Leo's face. "Over that candle-light dinner you promised me earlier, Mr. President," he replied sarcastically. "I was gonna tell you as soon as possible! When *else* would I tell you?" 

"Not about the bill, Leo," Bartlet explained in a slightly frustrated manner. "When were you gonna tell me you and Margaret broke up?" 

The confused look grew. "What on earth are you talking about? We're not--we're still together..." 

Now it was the President's turn to look confused. "No you're not," he argued feebly. "She left you because you didn't propose. Right?" 

"Um, no..." 

Jed blinked a few times in thought. "You say the bill's gonna pass?" 

"Yeah." 

"Okay." And he went back into his own office, in search of his omniscient wife. 

Leo hung up his coat and went to his desk to get down to work. Not a minute later, Margaret was at his door, telling him that Toby was there to see him. 

"Hey, Leo." 

"Toby." Leo looked up from his notes. "Need something?" 

"Uh, no,no," Toby answered, running a hand over his head. "Just had to drop this off." He handed a packet of documents to Leo. 

"Okay. Thanks." Leo put the documents down beside the papers he was already looking over. "Toby?" 

Toby stopped walking to the door and turned to face his boss. "Yeah?" 

"I really mean it. Thanks." 

"No problem." He turned back to the door and hesitated slightly. "Leo? There *is* one question I have of you," he mumbled in a very Toby-like fashion. 

Leo put his pen down and waited patiently. "What's that?" 

"Just what was your plan, anyway? You never did tell me," Toby asked quietly. 

"I went over to Margaret's place and proposed to her." 

Blinking in surprise, Toby started to smile. "You proposed? What'd she say?" 

"She said no. But," Leo added, smiling a bit himself, "she came back to me. And I'm never gonna let it seem as if I take her for granted, ever again." 

Toby started smiling reluctantly, ducking his head in the hopes that Leo wouldn't see. "That's just... wow." 

"What?" 

"It's so romantic. You know, what with it being Valentine's Day, and all." He raised his eyes briefly, glancing at Leo with a warm look. 

"You and Lionel Tribbey. You two should start a club, or something." 

Toby's head snapped up, and he glared at Leo icily. Frowning a bit, he turned around and sauntered out of the Chief of Staff's office darkly, ignoring the chuckling behind him. 

  
-the end- 


End file.
